A Summer's Lesson
by Anlynne
Summary: They thought nothing else could get in the way, but they were wrong. When Draco stays with Hermione for the summer their love will be tested outside the walls of Hogwarts. This is a sequel to The Pages of Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter One

Meeting The Grangers

It was the first time in Hermione Granger's life that she wasn't sad to leave Hogwarts, in fact it was a relief to get out of the train! Since Draco Malfoy had been disowned by his family, and rejected by his friends he was forced to sit with hers. The problem? Her best friends, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley were not fond of Draco in any way. Ron refused to stop calling him ferret, and Harry only spoke one word to him, "hi." Nevielle Longbottom wouldn't even come into the compartment. Though she hushed Ron every time he insulted, she didn't blame them, not in the least bit. Draco had been awful to them for five years, in fact he was supposed to be her murderer, but that was another story entirely.

Hermione was aware how little sense it made for her to be dating him, a pureblood, an ex-deatheater. She didn't care. Not anymore. They truly cared for one another, and he made her happy. That was all that mattered, right?

On the platform packed with students, and parents, Hermione couldn't help but cast a nervous glance around. She half expected Draco's father to show up. Not to pick up his son, of course, but to curse them. It wasn't her immense logic speaking, but the slight paranoia.

Harry with his usual untidy hair, and thick glasses accompanied the red-haired Weasley's who approached them. Molly, Ron's mother, a plump woman pulled Hermione in a tight hug just like she did to her daughter Ginny.

"Have a good summer, dear. You must come by if only for a week. Ron will owl you."

Hermione smiled kindly, and felt Draco stiffen beside her. "That's really nice of you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, and you too, of course, Malfoy."

Ron, and George gaped at this, and Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "I wouldn't like to impose."

"Impose? No, not at all -"

"Mum," Ron growled. "He says he doesn't want to impose, don't push him."

"Hush Ronald," she snapped before turning back to Draco. "You are more than welcome to accompany Hermione. We'll expect you there. I'm sure Harry's told you he's staying with us."

"Yes, ma'am, he did."

The day after Voldemort died Mrs. Weasley told Harry that he would be staying with them until he graduated, and secured a job. Harry was opt to decline, he already had a house, the one his godfather owned previously before his death, and plenty of money left from his parents. Mrs. Weasley wouldn't hear of it, and Harry being only slightly fearful of her took her up on the offer.

Ron, Ginny, and Harry hugged her goodbye as they left the station. Hermione, and Draco waited there on the platform with their luggage, along with her cat Crookshanks hissing in his wicker basket. Hermione peered through the crowds searching for her parents, standing on tiptoe to see over the heads. Draco stared at his overly expensive shoes; she could feel his apprehension in waves.

"It'll be okay," she assured.

"What if they hate me?"

Hermione laughed, and he glared. "Draco, do you remember what I told you before we... You know... The first time."

He gave her a blank stare.

"_The_ first time. _Our_ first time."

It dawned on him, "oh! Yeah, sure I remember."

"What did I say?"

"Um, something about your parents thinking I'd be perfect for you."

A man with her brown hair, and a woman with her slender figure came walking towards them, grinning from ear to ear. "Keep that thought, here they are."

Draco snapped his head up, standing to attention as though he were in the military. Hermione suppressed a laugh as she hugged her parents. "Mum, dad, this is Draco."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when her mother hugged him, but he quickly got over this, and shook her father's hand. "Mr. Granger," he said formerly.

"So, you are the same Draco Malfoy that our daughter has told us so much about."

"Dad," Hermione mumbled warningly.

"Thank you, sir," Draco said thinking he was being praised, and Hermione was simply embarrassed.

"No need to thank me, I just find it ironic that the boy she has claimed that hated her is in fact now dating her. Didn't you curse her in your fourth year?"

Any color that was in Draco's pale features was gone. He looked as though the worst possible scenario of this event were coming true. "Yes, sir, I did," he admitted through clenched teeth.

"Alfred, stop that, he's our guest," Mrs. Granger hissed as he took his daughters trunk.

In an attempt to relax them both Hermione took Draco's hand in hers, his being a little clammy, and calloused from his years as a Seeker. He clutched her like a scared child would clutch their security blanket. Walking to the car her hand started to hurt. "Draco," she whispered trying to wiggle her fingers out of his hold.

"Sorry," he said, his voice far off as if he was in a trance.

They approached their simple blue car near the end of the vast parking lot, and Draco's brows furrowed in worry. "Your parents really drive these things," he asked amazed.

She laughed in good nature. "Yes, it's muggle transportation."

"Is it safe?"

"As safe as flooing." She remembered her first experience with flooing, and it wasn't pleasant. She thought she would seriously be injured, or die from the swirling soot, and grates passing. It was almost as bad as flying. She could only imagine what Draco must be thinking, climbing into a hunk of metal.

When their trunks were secured in the boot they got in the car, her, and Draco with the wicker basket settled in the backseat. He jumped as the engine started making the car lightly vibrate. She took his hand again when he was startled by it moving, backing out of the space, and moving forward. He was completely entranced by it, and Hermione watched him sweetly. "Wow," he breathed.

She recalled the time that they went shopping in the muggle town. He reminded her vaguely of Mr. Weasley as he pushed numerous buttons unaware of what they would do. She would never tell him that, of course, his hatred for the Weasley's had lessened, but not enough that he would think it a compliment by any sorts.

"So, Draco, is it?" Her father asked from the drivers seat, glancing in the review mirror at them.

"Yes, sir."

"That's an odd name."

Draco laughed, and Hermione knew he was thinking of a sarcastic comment so she gave him a glare. "It's after the constellation of the dragon," he replied with as much kindness as he could muster.

Her mother twisted in her seat to look back to them. "I think it's a nice name. Alfred, and I named Hermione after the Shakespeare play of The Winters Tale."

He smiled at her as she shrugged her shoulders. "A great author."

Her father spoke then. "Draco, I am curious, what are you going to do after Hogwarts?"

Hermione knew that he was interrogating him, like most fathers do to their dates, but it didn't cease the blush that crept along Hermione's cheek. She decided to look out the window, and let them talk, but kept listening. She might be needed to interfere.

"I'd like to be in Ministry work, head of Misuse of Magical Artifacts."

Mr. Granger appeared blank by that answer. Hermione was very close to her parents, hence why they knew about Draco's bullying, but she didn't reveal a lot about her world. Her parents believed that not everything could be solved by magic. Even if they were allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts, she knew that she would have limited use of it anyway. Her parents wouldn't settle washing the dishes with a flick of a wand.

"That sounds nice," her father said. "What exactly happened with your parents?"

"Alfred, that's none of our business," Mrs. Granger scolded.

"If he's staying with us I think we have the right to know."

Draco was about to speak, but Hermione cut across him. "Dad, I told you. His parents, and him were in an argument -"

"What kind of argument?"

Draco this time spoke up, "my father wanted me in his line of work after Hogwarts, sir, and I like to live my own life."

"What kind of work does he do?"  
If Hermione spared anything from her parents it was about the dark arts. They knew about deatheaters, and even Voldemort, but she never gave them a reason to think that she was fighting it. They knew nothing about the adventures in her school, nothing about sorcerer's stones, basilisks, criminals, and all the close calls her, and her friends had. She told them about Draco, about his bullying, the fighting, but that was all he was in those letters. If they knew...

"He's a head of one of the departments in the ministry, but not the department I'd like to be in."

She smiled. He was good at this, answering questions quickly. She knew then that he had been practicing, that he thought it all out.

Mr. Granger tapped his fingers on the wheel thinking hard of another question. The car slowed to a stop at a light, and Hermione noticed how green Draco had become.

"Are you okay," she asked concerned.

"Nauseas."

"Car sick."

"What's that?"

She shook her head. "We're almost home."

Draco then grabbed the handle of the door throwing his weight against it. He fell onto the pavement, and retched on the side of the road. Hermione quickly scooted out of the open door, and knelt by him running her hand along his back.

Her dad rolled down his window to stare at the two. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine, dad. Just a little car sick."

Draco wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. "I'm fine..."

Hermione helped him back to the car, reluctant on his part to be taken care of, but he let her nonetheless. When they were settled, the light changed, and the car moved forward again. At least her father had stopped asking him questions for the time being. Dinner was going to be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Only A Tattoo

They pulled into the driveway. Hermione sighed in relief. They had stopped three times along the side of the road to let Draco vomit. If her house had been further she would ask her parents to stop by a store so she could fetch him a ginger ale, but they made it.

"Welcome home," her father said.

"Thanks, dad." She stared up at the two story house. White brick, floor to ceiling windows, a large porch, and lanterns along the cobblestone pathway to the arched doors. She grinned, she was finally home.

While Mr. Granger heaved their trunks upstairs, Hermione, her mom, and Draco went inside to the kitchen. The front doors opened to the sitting room. It was simple, a comfortable beige couch, a brick fireplace, very contemporary, much like the rest of the house. There was a staircase outside the entrance to the kitchen, and there was a dining room off of it, but it was rarely used as the kitchen was much more convenient.

Hermione let Crookshanks loose in the house, and sat Draco in a chair at the table while her mother poured him a cup of ginger ale. He sipped it, his natural sallow complexion returning. She got the feeling that he wouldn't be getting in a car anytime soon.

"Hermione, why don't you show Draco to his room. I'm going to start dinner, maybe he'll feel better then."  
She nodded, and by the crook of his arm helped him to his feet. When out of the kitchen he took his arm back mumbling that he could walk. She let him watching as he swayed on the stairs, but she refrained herself from grabbing his arm to steady him. She knew he didn't like help, he hated it when she offered it, like saving him from drowning in the lake at Hogwarts, and the time he accidentally cut his hand. He was too proud of a person.

Reaching the top of the staircase Hermione took a right to the room across from her own. The guest bedroom was almost under-decorated, but Hermione appreciated it. Everything was white, from the dresser, to the bed, even the white frame on the wall holding a painted picture of the sunrise. It was like being wrapped in a cloud. Of course it was too cheerful for Draco, but he didn't so much as snort, though it was only because he was physically sick from the car ride.

She pointed to the door by the bed. "There's the loo if you need it." She stood at the door as he plopped down on the bed, his feet hanging off the side.

Hermione retreated to her baby blue room crashing on her own bed taking in her sanctuary. She had to admit it was nice to be in her own room. Lavender Brown, one of the girls she shared a dormitory with snored. Loudly. That aside she adorned her room to her tastes. A large bookshelf, and desk, the walls the color of a clear sky. There were a few pictures of her, and her friends on the walls, along with a couple of drawn ones that had Dean Thomas' signature at the bottom.

The day didn't start as well as she hoped for, but they had the rest of the day ahead of them, and considering Draco was ill her father might lighten up. She almost laughed. It wasn't going to happen. Her parents loved her, trusted her judgment, and they were good people, they would never let Draco stay otherwise, but it didn't mean they weren't worried. They were protective.

She was out of Hogwarts for the summer, she had that to be comforted by. During their last few months there they were attacked twice, and no one aside from Harry, and Ginny wanted anything to do with them. They couldn't understand that yes, they were enemies, but the key word was "were", meaning no longer. Draco, and herself were gone for five months, they should have been given the benefit of the doubt.

That was another fact Hermione hid from her parents, the ridicule they faced, they didn't even know that their daughter was put into protection from Voldemort, and they themselves had their minds altered. Maybe she was protective of them too.

Lost in her thoughts she fell fast asleep. she didn't realize she had until there was a light shake on her arm. Blearily she looked up at Draco. He appeared to be feeling better, his stormy gray eyes were alert, and he was smiling.

"Your mom announced dinner. Are you coming?"

She nodded, and he gave her a soft kiss pulling her to her feet. She yawned leaning against him. He enveloped her in his arms burying his face in her soft tresses. "Your father hates me."

"No, he doesn't. He's just protective of me is all. He'll get to know you."

"We better get down there. Don't want them thinking were fooling around," he said sarcastically.

They walked downstairs holding hands, but turning into the kitchen he dropped hers as though it was a disgusting thing to do. She bit her tongue to keep from making a comment. He would relax eventually.

Like a gentlemen he pulled out a chair for her, and then sat next to her earning reproachful glances from her father who grunted hi. Inside Hermione begged him to behave.

The table was set nicely. Every plate had the same design of light yellow flowers along the edges, identical glasses, and an ancient looking vase holding five pink carnations in the center of the table. She knew they were handpicked from her father's garden.

Mrs. Granger covered the rest of the table with bowls, and platters of food. It smelled wonderful making Hermione's mouth water at once. They all tucked in.

"This meal is delicious, Mrs. Granger. You're a talented cook."

Her mom smiled wide showing gleaming white, and perfectly proportioned teeth. "Why thank you, Draco. That is really kind of you."

Hermione beamed. At least her mom was being cordial. Mrs. Granger always strived to be the best hostess. Mr. Granger considered Draco an exception. He looked at his long sleeves as he reached for his glass.

"Rather warm to be wearing sleeves, isn't it?"

Hermione bit her lip worriedly, then remembered her parents knew all of her habits, and the meanings. She immediately stopped. This was a scenario that she didn't go over, and she reprimanded herself for it. She took in Draco's reaction from the corner of her eye, and she could tell he hadn't thought of an answer either, but he remained calm. She wished she could.

"I thought it a bit chilly myself," he answered.

"I don't buy that -"

"For goodness sakes, Alfred, please respect our guests privacies," her mother said in a voice that strained not to yell.

"He's dating my daughter. I think I have the right to know."

Hermione sighed loudly to get her parents attention. "It's a tattoo," she admitted. "He didn't want you to know he had one. Go on, Draco, show them."

Draco stared at her in disbelief, but pulled up his right sleeve anyway showing the dark mark on his forearm, a skull with a snake emerging from the open mouth. She shuddered.

It was clear that her mother was trying with all her might to keep quiet, while her father narrowed his eyes suspiciously at it. They didn't know what it was, or what it stood for. Oh, how little did they know.

Draco shoved his sleeve down covering it back up. He shoveled a spoonful of potatoes in his mouth as though nothing happened. Hermione decided to explain, or if she was to be honest with herself, lie.

"He's a Slytherin, their mascot is the snake, remember?" It wasn't a complete lie, everything she told then was the truth.

"All I have to say is that you're not getting one," her father warned. "Lion, or eagle, or whatever animal there is, you will not be branded, not while you're living under this roof."

Hermione knew better than to correct him. It wasn't an eagle, but a raven, the house mascot for Ravenclaw. It was ridiculous to think that she would have any other house other than her own drawn on her, she wouldn't have her own house at that. A needle piercing her skin with dye didn't sound appealing.

"Don't worry, dad. I would never. You know I hate needles."

Draco looked a bit confused at the word needle, but Mrs. Granger spoke taking his notice, her face lighting up. "Hermione's always been afraid of needles. Oh, I must tell you the story of when Hermione had her first shot, right in the behind, she screamed for nearly an hour. The needle was nothing."

Hermione turned such a shade of scarlet it could rival the Weasley's. "Mom," she breathed.

Draco smirked, "do tell."

"Don't," she pleaded, but her mom didn't seem to hear her, and continued with the embarrassing stories throughout dinner. She wanted to smack the gleeful smile right off Draco's face.

Once filled up Draco offered to help with dinner, though he had not a clue of how to do so, but Mrs. Granger waved him away saying to relax, and for Hermione to show him the garden.

The dusk air was cool, a full moon shining down on them reflecting in the water of large pool. Briefly she thought of Lupin, her old professor. If he was alive he would have been transformed into lets say a wolfy state. If his son Teddy had anything to be thankful for it was all the love he would receive in his lifetime, and a godfather who understood how he would feel when he became older. Harry never knew his parents either.

Draco followed her gaze. "I didn't want them to die, you know."

"I know..."

"Do your parents know?"

"All they know is that I lost some dear friends." She led him to the far corner of the yard when lines of yellow, blue, and pink flowers brought color to the green ground. Hermione knew every type of flower there. She used to help her father when she was younger. She still did.

"So, your father enjoys digging in dirt?"

"Don't be such a prat," She scolded holding back a smile. "Lets put it this way, sometimes you have to dig through the dirt, or _mud_ to find beauty."

He looked down at her knowingly. "There's no dirty blood in you, Granger. I see it now, think I always had. I'm sorry for everything. Don't think I've ever apologized."

Her fingers intertwined in his. She never thought she'd see the day when Draco said sorry. "Thank you."

"For what? Torturing you?"

"For saying sorry."

"Should've said it sooner," he fixed his gaze at the still flowers. "You're more beautiful than them."

Hermione felt her heart beat with empathy. She loved him, so much, and loved the way that he said cliché things pulling them off with grace. He always meant them. "Doesn't matter now."

"Your parents really love you," he commented out of nowhere.

She nodded slowly, not knowing where he was going with it. "They do. I love them as well, no matter how they embarrass me. Draco, promise me you won't tell anyone those stories."

He sniggered, but it subsided fast at her glare. "Promise, I won't, but you're lucky they do that."

"Lucky? It's humiliating."

"It shows they're proud of you, that they love you in any circumstance. I'd give anything for my parents to do that."

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she squeezed his hand to comfort him, and he squeezed back as if saying it was alright. In such a short time they had become that close. They didn't always need words to convey what they felt.

"Hermione?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

She rested her head on his arm, too short to lean on his shoulder. "I love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Falling Into Darkness

It was Saturday, a day Mr. Granger had off from the dental practice he shared with his wife, and a day he woke his daughter at five a.m. A tradition in the Granger house. Hermione's father waited for her outside as she dressed in an old pair of overalls. They looked as raggedy as Harry's clothes.

As she was on her way out there was an insistent tapping on her window. She peered over her shoulder at a snow white owl waiting impatiently to be let in. Hedwig, Harry's owl. She opened the window letting her fly in on her desk. She took the letter she held in her beak, lightly patting her back.

"Thanks Hedwig, will you wait while I write response?"

She hooted, and Hermione settled in her chair ripping it open.

_Hermione,_

_Harry said we could use his owl to send this to you. We all know that one more trip would finish Errol off. Anyways, when are you coming? We were thinking you could stay the last two weeks before our first term. Send a letter back with Hedwig to let us know._

_Ron_

_P.S. Had to snatch this before Ron sent it off. Tell Draco to come too. Mrs. Weasley said she didn't want him to be left out. Is he treating you alright?_

_Harry_

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh, or be upset at Ron's childish behavior. She took out fresh parchment, and pen. It always felt odd writing with it. A quill was different when you had to keep dipping it into the bottle.

_Harry, Ron,_

_We'll be there. I've already told my parents that I'm spending a portion with you, and they're okay with it. Can't wait to see you._

_With Love, Hermione_

_P.S. Thanks, Harry. Draco's doing well. Tell Ron to bugger off._

Hermione skimmed the letter, and folded it up, stuffing it into an envelope. She held it out to Hedwig taking it in her beak. She flew out the window high into the sky, and Hermione shut it behind her.

Now it was time for that tradition. She wasn't sure how it began, but she loved it. She poked her head in Draco's room watching as he slept, his bare chest rising, and falling evenly, the blankets tangled around his legs, his baby blonde hair over the pillow. If she didn't know any better she'd think he was an angel. That was a crazy thought.

Hermione bounded down the stairs, her sandals slapping against the hardwood floor. Outside it was stifling, a hint to how hot it would become when the sun showed. She met her father by the garden, and together they tended them. She pulled on the familiar worn gloves, and picked up the sheers, and set to work.

She was patting more dirt into the earth laughing at one of his lame dentists jokes when he pulled her hands away from the flowered. His face was grave as if they had lost a dear loved one. Fear started to settle itself in her stomach.

"Hermione, you're precious to me. You're my little girl, and I don't want to lose that. I know you have to grow up, and you've grown to be a remarkable young lady." He took a shaky breath.

She knew what he wanted to say. "Is this about Draco?"  
"Yes, I know that you are very fond of him, but I'm not sure he feels the same. Five years is a long time to hate someone as much as he did you, something I can't forgive him for. The fact that you can says how mature you are, but even the most adult people can make mistakes."

Fear was replaced with disgust. Not at her father directly, but at his feelings, his lack of faith in her. "Why do you think this is a mistake?"  
"He's not right for you, he doesn't deserve you. A tattoo, Hermione? He has that bad image."

"_Image?!_" She shot to her feet. "You're judging his image?"

"What about Harry?"

Now she was baffled. "What about him?"

"He's such a nice boy, polite, without marks."

"Harry?!" She felt almost sick. Harry was like her brother. She said just that too, "he's like my brother, dad!'  
Slowly he rose to his feet brushing the dirt off his legs. "Don't raise your voice at me, Hermione Jean. I'm worried about you. Your mother is as well."

Hermione breathed. She was stepping over the line, she knew it. She was taught to respect her parents, but at the mention of her making a mistake it all went out the window. She would never call Draco a mistake.

The backdoor opened, her mother's head poking out. "Breakfast," she called.

"Think about what I said," her father asked.

It would have been common courtesy to respond, but she couldn't. She gaped at her father. She shook her head. She wouldn't think about it. There was nothing to think about. "Dad, please, don't scare him off," she walked back into the house.

Mrs. Granger bent over the cooker as Draco set the table. She smirked willing to bet that it was his first time. He glimpsed up, and smirked back, knowing what she was thinking.

"I'm going to wash up," Hermione announced almost jogging to her room before her father walking in the kitchen. She didn't want to see the disappointment lining his face. It was like he was telling her she failed, and failure wasn't an option for her.

In her room was a bathroom decorated in a deep green. She blasted hot water in the porcelain tub. She stripped her overalls, and let the spray burn her skin red, washing away the dirt, and ebbing her frustration away. She barely heard her door opening, but did notice when the curtain was drawn back. She gasped holding back a scream. She spun around, and stepped back seeing Draco stepping in, only for the water to hit him, and jump back out.

"Damn, that's hot!" He said numerous curse words under his breath. "What're you trying to do? Burn yourself?"

She turned the knob for cooler water, and peeked from behind the curtain. "What're you doing here? If my parents knew -"

"They think I'm taking a nap, don't fret. It's weird being around your parents, it's like if I touch you I risk being decapitated."

She sniggered. "They're not that bad... If I met your family that really _would_ happen."

"Don't worry, that'll never happen. I only brought around the girls I wasn't planning on keeping."

"How sweet," her tone dripped of sarcasm.

Draco grinned, watching the strands of her hair steadily drip. "May I?"

"Come on in," she closed the curtain when he jumped in, still in his clothes. He noticed her incredulous stare. "Well, jeez, Hermione I don't need an actual shower."

She laughed, "but I do, maybe you should scram."  
"I'm not Crookshanks, don't tell me to scram." He grabbed the back of her head, and before she could further protest took her lips.

Hermione melted in under his touch, and she cursed herself for it too. She wrapped her arms around him inhaling that sweet musk scent he had, and tasting the freshness of his mouth. He did look good wet in his clothes. His shirt clung to his skin enhancing the features of his muscles, how they rippled under her touch. He seemed to be just as affected by her, as she was to him.

He pushed her back against the tile wall, his hands on either side of her head as he kissed along her jaw line, her neck, sucking on the soft skin beneath her ear, down to her collarbone, and chest. His body pressed against hers, and she could feel the tightness in his jeans. She fumbled with the buttons, forgetting about where they were, or the fact that her parents were downstairs, much less in the house at all. Her fight with her father completely left her mind as Draco took her in the shower.

Once out she ran a brush through her mane, and pinned it in a clip. Draco watched this, sweeping back a strand that had fallen. She pulled on jeans, and a t-shirt feeling refreshed, and particularly satisfied. He left to change into some dry clothes while Hermione shoved theirs in the hamper.

Hermione could smell the bacon from the stairs. Her stomach grumbled demandingly. She took a seat by Draco, and began filling her plate with eggs ignoring her father's stares. They weren't ones that held knowledge of what they had so recently done, but of the fight.

"Hermione, sweetie, your dad, and I are going out to the grocery. You, and Draco can come if you like, but it's okay if you want to stay here."

The vein in her father's head was nearly ready to explode. "I think I'd like to stay here as well, Jean."

"Oh, no you don't! You complained about the steak I bought last week, remember? This time you're picking it out. You're coming with me."

When it came down to it, Mrs. Granger trusted her daughter. This moment had shown it better than any other. If only her father felt the same. He stabbed his eggs angrily, and she only felt a tad guilty at what she had done.

Once the plates were cleared of their meal Mr., and Mrs. Granger went to leave. In Draco's shock she kissed the top of his head, and she kindly smiled, and said, "you'll get used to it, dear." Then they were gone.

Hermione started to clear the table, piling the dishes, and sitting them carefully in the sink. She felt arms wrap around her waist, warm lips on her neck. Draco moaned, his hands sliding up her shirt, running over her sides. She leaned back against him feeling safe, and secure. There was something about being in his arms that satisfied her. There was no place else she rather be.

"Again," she mumbled.

"I wasn't thinking of that. Well, actually I was, but believe me, I don't want to risk it. I'm not allowed to use magic, and your father -"

"Scares you?"  
"No! I'm not afraid of anything. I just don't want to give him a reason to give you a harder time. I know he hasn't been easy on you, I could tell that from the way you two were glaring at each other."

"I was worried more about you."

"Don't, I'm fine. I did missed you last night. I don't sleep as well when you're not beside me. I just think that maybe we should be a bit more careful..."

Hermione left the dishes in the sink, and turned around in his arms to face him. She grinned. "Feels like you need a cold shower."

There was that mischievous glint in his eye. "Every time I'm around you, Hermione, I need a cold shower."

"Well, I was thinking of the pool."

"Those water holes you were talking about? You have one of those here?"

"Yeah, it was dark last night, you might've not seen it outside."

Draco's smile reached his eyes. "Do you still have that yellow bathing suit?"

Hermione nodded, and simultaneously they raced upstairs to change. She promised herself that the dishes would wait, if only for an hour or two. She grabbed a couple of towels from the hall closet, and met him outside. She showed him the pool, and he bent to run his hand through the water amazed, the chlorine strong. She stood behind him, and gently pushed tipping him in the water.

He swam to the surface spitting water from his mouth, and nose. "What the fuck, Granger."

"You'll never learn..."

He grabbed her wrist pulling her in, the water creeping into her nose. She sputtered for air, her hair clinging to her face.

"You'll never learn either."

"Bully," she spat pushing on his chest, and they both laughed.

Draco pulled her to him snogging her hard, their lips wet, and slipping. There was something strangely intimate about being that close with barely anything on. Suddenly it was like nature turned up the temperature. His tongue snaked against hers, their breath becoming rapid. She held the back of his neck, his hands on her lower back. They broke apart, both needing to breathe properly.

"The sun's heating the water," she said softly. "I'm getting lemonade, do you want any?"

"Sure, I'm going to do a some laps," he winked.

Hermione climbed out, and dried herself off with a towel not wanting to make a small pool in the kitchen. She could feel Draco's eyes on her back, and she grinned to herself. She went inside where it was much cooler causing small bumps over her skin. She poured two drinks, and headed back outside. He lifted himself out, taking a drink from her hand. They sat on the edge, their feet dangling in the water.

Now was the time to tell him. "Draco... I got a letter from Ron."

"No," he snapped instantly. "We're not staying with them."

"Draco -"

"No! You know how I feel about them."

Hermione paused gathering a calm. She didn't want a fight. "I know why you hated them. They were poor, mudblood lovers." The word mudblood caused his eyes to stare intently into hers. "I don't believe that you hold the right to hate them anymore. In fact you didn't have a right to hate them to begin with, so tell me why."

"He loves you. I can see it every time he looks at you. Most of our school days you spent with him, and Potter. You have been through so much together that, maybe I'm a little jealous. He had you, and the bloody family that I want."

"He loves me like he loves Ginny. It's not his fault that you feel this way. He means a lot to me, Draco, so please give him a chance."

"I can't..."

Hermione sucked in a breath, and stood. "I'm going. I like spending part of my summers with them. They're my family too."

He stood as well. "Bully for you, Granger. You have two families."

"Get over yourself, _Malfoy_. You have me. Can't that be enough?" Before he could answer she backed away intending to get her distance from him, her foot falling off a ledge. There was that tug on her stomach, she was falling, and she had nothing to grab onto.

Draco reached out to her, grasping her hand. He got her halfway to him when his wet hand slipped from hers, and she lost the only good footing she had dropping sideways. She plummeted down, her shoulder colliding with concrete, a pain shooting down her arm, it burned as she sunk further into the water. She tried to swim, she kicked her legs, and tried to move her arm, but it hurt too much. She opened her eyes seeing Draco staring down at her in horror. She couldn't hold her breath any longer, she was dizzy, disoriented, she panicked, and inhaled the water filling her lungs. _Help me, Draco, please_. He didn't move. She was descending to the bottom, in her vision were black dots. Blackness engulfed her. It was in her, around her. She fell in it, wrapped it around her like a cloak. _This is dying,_ she thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The Capacity For Love

It was coming to her slowly. Hermione Granger thought she was dead. There was a bright light, but she couldn't go towards it. She was weighted down. She heard voices, and strained to listen, to recognize them. One she did not, the others she did.

"Is she going to be okay," her mother cried.

"Yes, ma'am, she is," said a stranger. "She had a fall. There's minor damage to her shoulder. There was a nasty cut, but we were able to heal that easy. There was a lot of water in her lungs. If the boy waited any longer to bring her in..."

"Thank you..." She knew that to be her father's voice.

Hermione forced her eyes open. She had to see what was going on around her. Hazily she saw her parents. They weren't talking to a doctor, but a Healer, she could tell by the patch on her robes, a bone, and a wand crossing. She was in St. Mangos. Who had taken her there? Couldn't have been Draco, they weren't allowed to use magic out of school. They weren't of age yet, not for some months.

"Mum," she croaked.

Mrs. Granger gasped, and cried harder. She embraced her daughter in a tight hug. Hermione felt the wind knocked out of her. "Oh, sweetie, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, mum."

Her dad had tears in his eyes as he grasped her hand. "Thank goodness you're alright. What happened?"

"I fell," that much Hermione knew. She surveyed the room around her, everything was a sterlizing white. "Where's Draco?"

"We thought it best to leave him in the waiting room until we heard your story."

"What story?"

Mr. Granger sighed, exasperated. "Hermione, you can tell us if something happened. You don't have to be afraid of him."

"What are you talking about?"

"Was there a fight," her mother asked.

"Yes, but -"

"Don't be afraid, dear."

Hermione felt her head spinning. "What are you getting at? Are you suggesting that he pushed me?" She saw their expectant faces. She groaned. "He _didn't_ push me. I backed up, and fell."

"Why were you backing up," her father pressed.

"Because, _dad_, some people have the ability to walk backwards -"

"Don't talk to your father that way, Hermione!" Her mother screeched, piercing Hermione's ears.

She felt herself exploding. "Then don't accuse him of something he didn't do! He didn't push me, he tried to help me, but his hand slipped. It was an accident."

Her mother sighed, as if she was being forced to give up, and kissed her forehead. "If you say so, I believe you." She glared over at her husband.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Thank you," Hermione said sincerely. "Thanks for caring, but I'd like to see Draco now. Please."

Her parents exchanged a glance, and nodded. They walked out, and she laid waiting for Draco to walk in. Hesitantly she lifted her arm. She felt no pain, and she was able to move it freely. They really did work wonders.

Draco came in wearing a heavy cloak, his steps slow, his head down as if he was ashamed. He pulled a chair to her bedside, and sat down. His hand shook as he ran his fingertips over her palm. When she didn't pull away, he laced his fingers with hers, but he didn't dare look at her.

"Thank you," she said knowing it had been him that saved her.

He shook his head, and she caught a glimpse at his cheek, a shiny wet streak running from his eye to his chin.

"Draco, please look at me."

He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. Like his hand, his voice shook. "Hermione, you know how I said I wasn't afraid of anything?"

"Yes."

"I lied. When you fell, I never felt so scared in my entire life. I - I thought I lost you."

"I'm right here -"

"I know... But today made me realize something. I didn't grow up with the love you did, Hermione. Meeting your parents I was wondering if I could ever love you as much as you love me. I didn't know my capacity. I saw you under that water, sinking to the bottom. I fucking froze, I couldn't move, and when I did, swimming you to the top, you weren't breathing, and I thought I was too late. The last words you said to me were that you weren't enough, and you are. I don't know what I would do without you. I'd give anything for you, yet I almost let you drown."

Tears burned her eyes. "It's a natural reaction. Sometimes we freeze. I froze when I saw the basilisk in the mirror," she tried to joked.

He bent his head lower, his hand gripping hers as if he would never let go, as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling. "I'll never be good enough for you. No matter how hard I try... I almost let you die. I stood there, and watched... What kind of person does that to someone they love?"

"A person whose scared. You were scared, and that's okay, I don't blame you -"

"You should! I let you fall. I've never done that before... I've always caught you." She knew he was thinking of the first time they kissed, when she almost tumbled down the stairs, and he pulled her back up.

Hermione tightened her fingers over his. "And you lifted me back up. You didn't mean to let go. It was all an accident. You can blame yourself all you want, but in the end the result is the same: it was an accident. I know that, and so do you, I don't blame you. _Please_ don't let this get between us. I know you love me, if you didn't you wouldn't have saved me. Now, I owe _you_ a life debt," she laughed.

"Will you give that to me," he whispered so softly that Hermione almost didn't hear him.

"What do you mean?"

"Will you give me your life? Not now, but someday, when we're ready. This isn't a fling, Hermione. I want you. Forever. I'd like to marry you."

The tears that once had been sad were now falling from happiness. She burst with it. "One day," she mummered.

His thumb ran over the soft skin of her hand. He hadn't so much as glanced up at her.

"Draco, look at me."

Leisurely he lifted his head. He was still crying silent tears. She tugged on his hand motioning for him to come closer, and when he was nose to nose with her, she kissed his cheeks tasting the sweetness of his worry. He tangled his hand in her damp hair, and brought his lips to hers. "I'll never let this happen again," he said against her mouth, "we're never going near water again."

She giggled, and then thought of something. Something that didn't make sense. "Draco, how'd you get me here? We're not allowed to use magic."

He pulled himself back. "That's a dumb question."

"You didn't use magic, did you?"

"Of course I did. What'd you expect?"

"Draco! You'll be expelled!"

He fell back into his seat. "Lets see," he held his palms up, "saving my girlfriend," he rose one hand, "getting expelled," his other dropped. "Call me crazy, but I went with saving the girlfriend. Sorry to disappoint you."

She pressed a hand to her head. She felt a migraine coming on. "I don't want you expelled..."

"What was I supposed to do, Hermione? I didn't know where any muggle hospitals were!"

"You know, it was a dire emergency, you could appeal."

"Ex-deatheater appealing to finish his education..."

"Don't be like that."

He pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. They didn't speak until her parents had come back into the room shortly after. Draco insisted in being the one who helped her up. He shrugged off his cloak wrapping it around her. She realized then that she was only in a long hospital robe. At least it covered more than the muggle ones.

While adjusting it over herself, she happened to see Draco's arm. He wore short sleeves, and where there was the dark mark there was a black band covering it. _He's smart,_ she thought proudly. She knew that he carried the band with him. He never told her, but one night when they lived together she picked up his clothes from the floor, they needed to be washed, and the band had fallen out of the pocket. It was always on him, just in case it was needed. This was one of those cases. If he walked out of that room, every wizard, and witch they passed would know, and there was still anger in their world, one distraught victim could lash out, especially when he was already well known. They didn't need that, especially with her parents.

They left to the hall, and were almost out the doors of St. Mungos when a voice yelled behind them. They turned around to see a livid young man with a healing gash along his cheek, and wild dark hair. He stomped towards them. Hermione felt for her wand, but horribly remembered that she didn't have it on her. It was at home, on her desk.

"Draco Malfoy! What a _pleasure_ it is to see you," the man spat. "Looking so healthy too!"

Mr. Granger furrowed his brows, "do you know this man, Draco?"

Draco wasn't listening, he was glowering at the stranger. "What is it? I have things to do."

The man turned to Hermione giving her a long look from her head to her shoes. "Oh, a mudblood. A step down, Draco? Is that why your daddy won't claim you?"

It happened in a flash. Draco had taken out his wand, and pointed it underneath his chin. "Don't dare call her that," he hissed. "And don't you dare speak of my father. I have no father."

"You betrayed us."

"And I'd do it again."

"For her?"

"For myself. This has nothing to do with her, so you leave her out of it. You apparently know me, so you would know that I'd have no problem killing. I can do it. Don't push me." He slid his wand in his back pocket covering it with his shirt. He snatched Hermione's arm, and pulled her after him, her parents following in startled confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Lies, and Runaways

They took muggle transportation to arrive home. No one spoke. Hermione's parents were terrified, they stood feet apart from Draco. She could hardly blame them. That confrontation was bad, and she was just as bewildered as them. She knew that stranger had been a deatheater, she knew that from the moment he accused Draco of betraying them for there was no one else Draco had betrayed.

The moment they stepped into the house she prepared herself. Her dad would go off, she knew he would, and he did.

He pointed a finger at Draco's chest, and bellowed, "boy, you better tell me what that was about, because if my family's in danger -"

"Alfred, calm down."

"I will not calm down, Jean! I won't! Our daughter was put in the hospital, she almost died, and a bloke was almost cursed, and I want to know what's going on! It was peaceful here before him!"

Draco didn't move. He didn't blink. He kept his head high. "That man worked with my father, and they weren't exactly mates. He sees me as a clone of my father. That is all. There's nothing more to it."

"What was that talk about betrayal, my daughter, and killing him?"

"He works in the same department. Everyone expected me to follow in my father's footsteps. It upset a lot of people, even enemies. I was angry that he would come up to me like that, and he knew how to get a rise out of me, so he mentioned Hermione. That is all."

Hermione stood back, watching this exchange. It was as close to the truth as he dared to get, and Hermione was grateful, even if it didn't make much sense. She stepped closer. "Dad? He saved my life."

"That's right, Alfred," her mother agreed. "I know you disapprove, but you can't deny any longer that he cares for our daughter. He could have easily let her drown, but he didn't. It's time that you let it go, and if you yell at him one more time then you'll be the one to leave."

Mr. Granger rounded on his wife. He wasn't angry, but was flabbergasted. He shook his head, and waved his hands in the air. "Fine, fine," he said all the way up the stairs.

Her mom went up to Draco, putting her hands on the sides of his face. "Draco, I'd like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did. I don't know what we would have done if she -" Mrs. Granger choked on her tears. "T-thank you, and don't worry about my husband."

Draco was immobilized by a touch that only a mother would give. His eyes shined, and he nodded in her hold.

"If there's anything you need, don't hesitate." She stepped back, and wiped her tears, and addressed Hermione, "I best go see to your father," and she left in pursuit of him.

As soon as she was out of sight Draco rushed to Hermione, and held her. "I didn't mean for you parents to fight..."

"It's okay..." Her head pressed against his chest, she could feel his heart drumming.

"You know what happened today, right?"

"I can only guess... He was a deatheater, and he recognized you?"

"Smartest witch of our age," he declared without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm not worried about it, deatheaters can't hurt us now, they're being rounded up too quick, and that aside they don't know how to find us."

_Tap... Tap... Tap tap tap..._ An Tawny owl sat outside the living room window. Hermione felt her heart drop. She knew exactly what it was about. She opened the window, and Draco took the letter from his beak, letting him fly back out. He ripped it open, and scanned the page his expression not changing in the slightest.

"You're expelled," Hermione said knowingly.

"Yeah..."

"We'll appeal this."

"Hermione I know more magic than most of those teachers there, and I can get along just fine without Hogwarts. It won't be harder finding a job, people will hate me all the same." He threw the letter into the grate of the fireplace, and pointed his wand at it, and it burst into flames, crinkling the letter into ash.

"But you'll have an education, that has to make things easier."

"This is what I want, I'll start looking for a position in the Ministry."

_If this is what he wants_, she thought sadly pushing down the need to argue with him, because there was no use. Draco couldn't be talked into anything. "Harry could -"

"I don't want Potter's help," he said shortly. "Being an Auror like him is not what I had in mind. I want to do this on my own. It'll be okay. You'll go back to Hogwarts in September, and hopefully I'll have a job by then, and I'll secure a place for us."

"A place?"  
"A house, a flat, something. I don't want to live in your parents house longer than I have to. And anyway, I miss sharing a bed with you." He grinned.

There were footsteps on the staircase, and they looked over to see Mrs. Granger walking down looking frazzled, her fingers apparently ran through her hair several times, her face was red. "Incorrigible man," she grumbled, and then saw her daughter, and Draco. "He refuses to come down... We planned on a movie night tonight. We rented a couple while we were out. Sound fun?"

Hermione nodded, "I'll get the popcorn."

"Movie," Draco asked, and they laughed.

With a tub of buttered popcorn they lounged on the couch. Draco was amazed by the moving pictures in the box. He asked, "how do you get those people in there?"

Hermione went in to explain the concepts of it, but he held up his hand. "Don't care. I'll just call it muggle magic."

They were watching the end credits of the second movie when Mr. Granger decided to come down. He looked furious, the vein throbbing in his head.

Draco took his cue, and the bowl with the remaining popcorn saying he was going to set it in the kitchen, but her father had reached him by this time, and pushed him down into the sofa, the bowl flying out of his hand spraying the room with kernels.

"Dad!"

"Alfred!"

Mr. Granger balled his fists, and Hermione, afraid that he was going to hit him jumped to her feet standing between the men. "What're you doing," she shrieked, but her dad pushed her out of the way back into the couch. Draco shot up, and out of instinct drew out his wand.

"Draco," Hermione cautioned.

"Alfred, what's this about?" Mrs. Granger stood fear evident in her tone.

"Well, _dear_, our daughter, and this boy has been lying to us," he seized Draco's right arm unafraid of the wand in it, and pulled the band off showing the dark mark. "You know what that is, Jean?" He held tight to his wrist. "It's called the dark mark. It's the brand of deatheaters."

"Deatheaters, Voldemort's followers?" She looked to Hermione to be told she was wrong, or that they were mistaken, but Hermione didn't say anything, she stared down guiltily.

"I want you out of our house, now," Mr. Granger yelled.

Hermione got to her feet standing next to Draco who snatched his wrist back. "Dad, I'm sorry we lied to you. Draco was a deatheater, and his father remains so, but when Draco came over to our side he was disowned, that's why he's here now."

Her father shook his head, "you're still lying to me, Hermione! Your own father! Mr. Weasley learned how to use the telephone, did you know that? He told me Draco was assigned to be your murderer!"

Mrs. Granger gasped, "Hermione, tell me that's not true."

Hermione bit her lip nervously, and nodded. "But I'm still alive," she pointed out. "He's _never_ hurt me."

"I will not have that mark in my household," her father bellowed.

Draco put his wand back into his pocket, and stepped away. "I have nothing to prove to you. If this is the way you want it," his tone bore no emotion

Hermione turned her back on her parents taking Draco's hand. "Lets go," she said.

"You're not leaving here," her father said.

"Hermione, think about what you're doing," Draco whispered.

She glared at her father. "Lets go," she repeated, and was valiantly covered in Draco's arms.

Her father bounded towards them, but before he could reach them, they disappeared with a small pop. They were gone, and her mother's cry was the last she heard.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Tea At The Burrow

Hermione, and Draco apparated in a dark alleyway. She had no idea where they were, but kept replaying what happened moments before, her father's rage, the way he pushed her aside, that look of disappointment. She failed him, and made her mother cry. She pulled Draco close, and wept in his robe. He stroked her hair in an attempt to comfort her.

She looked up into his face, her chin on his chest. He looked down at her, the fringe of his fair hair in his eyes, his flawless skin. She gave a weak smile thinking of how beautiful he was.

"You didn't have to leave," he told her quietly. "You could've stayed."

She frowned. "If they don't accept you, they can't accept me..."

"Those are your parents, Hermione. You're lucky you have them."

She pushed him away angrily. "I know how lucky I am! Don't you tell me about lucky! I know you're practically an orphan Draco, but that was your choice, and this is mine. I thought you'd understand."

"I do understand," his voice rose steadily. "I don't want you to do this just because it's what I did."

"How can you think I'd ever do that? You're the one that told me that I had to be willing to give it all up. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, but -"

"Then how can you think it?"

He shook his head, and reached for her taking her back in his arms. "I'm sorry, forget about that, okay? We have to find a place to stay. Do you have any money?"

"No..." She didn't bother asking him if he had any. She knew he didn't, his father left him nothing. "We could stay with -"

"Don't say the Weasel's..." He groaned.

"What do you suggest we do?"

He leaned back to look her in the eyes. "The oldest Weasel is the one that got us in this mess. If he hadn't told your father about me -"

"He didn't know not to say anything!"

Draco lead her over to the side of a building, and they sat on the ground. He rested his arm over her shoulders, she took his dangling hand feeling like hope was being sucked from her.

Without looking up she said, "there has to be another way. Where are we, anyway?"

"Diagon Alley. I didn't know where else to go..."

They sat in silence for what had to be an hour. Hermione leaned against him, feeling sleep itching at her eyes. "Draco," she said sleepily, not even sure if he was awake himself. "It's been a long day, and I'm tired... At least for one night, can we go to the Burrow?"

Draco didn't speak, and for a moment she thought he dozed off, but with a crack in his voice answered, "for tonight." He helped her to her feet, and they disapperated again, feeling like they were traveling through a drain pipe arriving outside of the Burrow.

Hermione grinned at the familiar house. It stood tall, leaning a bit. Like Harry, she assumed it was held up by magic. There were chickens in the yard clucking happily, and if she could see the back she knew there were gnomes wandering through the garden. She felt like she was at home.

The sun was sinking low into the sky, and Hermione knew that they were all gathered in the sitting room after having supper. It was something they always did. Draco trailed after her with a disdain look that she hoped he would wipe off when she knocked on the door.

Immediately it open, and Mrs. Weasley shrieked with delight. "Hermione, dear, oh, you're early!" She pulled Hermione in a hug as tight as the last one, and then a worried look came over her. "Is anything wrong?"

"Um..." Hermione winced. "There was a fight with my parents. I didn't mean to intrude, Mrs. Weasley, but we had nowhere to go -"

"Don't be silly, Hermione, you're always welcome here. Come inside, come inside, I'll put on some tea."

Hermione walked in, but Draco stood at the door hesitantly, not sure if he was welcome. Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips impatiently. "You too, Draco. In, in," she ordered.

Draco did as he was told, and nodded to the people gathered in the sitting room, holding back a sneer. Like Hermione had expected they were all there. Ron, George, and Harry were sitting playing Gobstones in front of the empty hearth, Ginny with her wavy mane in an elegant clip watched her brothers, and boyfriend from the couch, and a balding Mr. Weasley sat next to her with the Dailey Prophet. There was a half knitted scarf between them where she assumed Mrs. Weasley was sitting before she answered the door.

Ginny leapt from the couch when she saw Hermione, greeting her with a hug. Ron, and Harry did the same. George, a stocky fellow called from the floor, "get back here you two, you wouldn't hug her if you were winning!" He winked at Hermione.

Mr. Weasley put his paper down, and smiled kindly. "Ah, Hermione, and... Draco. We weren't expecting you for quite a while now." He shared a meaningful look with his wife knowing something had gone wrong, but did not want to discuss it in front of the children.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Weasley."

"Always a pleasure seeing you, Hermione." He ignored Draco reminding her of her dad. Did Mr. Weasley do it on purpose? It was unlikely, he wasn't a cruel man, and that aside he hated Mr. Malfoy, they even had a brawl in Diagon Alley's bookstore in her second year.

"I'll go start that tea," Mrs. Weasley said to them, and headed for the kitchen.

"Oh, mum's making tea, something happened," George noted.

While Ginny looked at her worriedly, Harry, and Ron glared at Draco as if he had done something wrong. Hermione saw this, and waved her hand to their concerns.

"He didn't do anything, you two. Honestly, you think I'd bring him here if he did."

"Technically, I brought you here," Draco reminded.

Ron's ears grew red. "And we thank you, now you can leave."

"Ronald Weasley! Don't be rude to our guest!" Mrs. Weasley screeched from the kitchen, and Ron turned a brighter shade of scarlet. Mrs. Weasley's voice softened as she continued, "Hermione, Draco, come, tea is ready."

Draco sneered at Ron before following Hermione into the kitchen. They sat at a rickety table in front of two cups of steaming tea. The cups didn't match, and one had a noticeable crack in it. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when Draco drunk his despite it. She was unsure of how snotty, and rude he could be, but he apparently had enough manners under someone else's roof.

The Weasley's weren't rich. Every part of their household was lived in. The faucet of the kitchen sink dripped steadily, the chair wobbled, and even from many floors below the attic she could hear the ghoul having a tantrum. Every book held worn pages, and the staircase creaked. To Hermione it didn't scream poor as she knew it did to Draco. Every nook, and cranny was packed with love.

"Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Weasley," Draco forced politeness.

"You're welcome, Draco." Mrs. Weasley sat across from them. She frowned at Hermione, "what happened, dear?"  
Hermione sat her drink down with a slight clink on the saucer. She began by telling her about the accident at the pool, to which Mrs. Weasley gasped, and Hermione assured there was no damage. She told her of how her father happened to find out about the dark mark on Draco's arm, and right on time, Mr. Weasley came in. Draco didn't look up, finding the intricate, but fading patterns on his cup interesting.

"Is that why you're here," Mr. Weasley asked concerned. "I thought your father was merely curious. I was wondering what prompted him to make such a call... I am sorry, Hermione."

"Don't be, Mr. Weasley, it's not your fault. My father seems bent on hating, Draco. He seems to think Harry's a better match for me."

Draco's head snapped up at this. "What? When?"  
Hermione turned pink. "In the garden this morning."

"Thanks for telling me," he mumbled.

She felt a pang of shame at telling him at all. "I thought he might come around. I didn't mean -"

"Whatever, Hermione."

She closed her eyes. She would love to never open them again, to sleep. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

Mrs. Weasley patted her hand on the table. "You know what, dear, you need sleep. Arthur will set up camp beds. You'll sleep in Ginny's room, and Draco you can share Ron, and Harry's room."

Hermione glanced at Draco. He looked as though he had been sentenced to death. He might as well have been. "Thank you so much, I really appreciate this." She gave Draco a sharp jab in his ribs with her elbow, he grunted painfully, and repeated her like a robot.

"Arthur will show you your room. I have some cleaning here to do, Hermione, you know the way to Ginny's room."

Hermione nodded, and as she opened the door leading back to the sitting room she saw a flesh colored string that was wriggling it's way in jerky movements towards a corner behind the staircase. An Extendbale Ear, an invention of George, and Fred's. She placed a foot over it, and heard George mutter, "uh oh." She held back a laugh, and put on her usual scowl.

"I know you all are back there! Ginny, you have to sleep sometime!"

She heard Ginny curse, and Draco laughed deeply. "You know, us Slytherin's may be conniving, and have curiosity to rival Gryffindor's, but we know better than to get caught."

They went up to the top landing, and Arthur went into the boys room to set a camp bed. On the tips of her toes she leaned to Draco's ear, feeling him shiver as her hot breath caressed his ear. "Come, and get me if something happens. I'm right across the hall."

"I think I can handle myself against Potter, and Weasel."

She became serious. "Look, Draco, while you're here, you cannot call them Weasel's!"

"Sorry, habit."

Arthur crossed the hall to go into Ginny's room. Draco ran his fingers down her arm, giving her a quick kiss. Arthur came out when they broke apart.

They went into their rooms for the night, Ginny coming in soon after, but Hermione was deeply asleep. The days events had crashed upon her suddenly.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The Bouncing Ferret Returns

The water pressed in on her, the chlorine choking her. She was dying, and no one was helping. She was screaming, but heard nothing. Her father was above her, calling her failure as a daughter. He told her he was no longer paying for her to attend Hogwarts. She would have to live with herself as a muggle. The word failure rung in her ears. She screamed. Why was no one hearing her? Was she even screaming? She couldn't hear her own self. _Please, someone hear me,_ she cried.

"Hermione, wake up!" Ginny said loudly shaking her.

Draco had come rushing in with Harry, and Ron at his heels. He knelt at her side, and took her thrashing head in his hands. "Hermione, wake up. Come on, wake up."  
It was all coming to her slowly. She heard the voices, she felt Draco's calloused hands. If only she could stop drowning. Suddenly she bolted up, taking gasps of air, sucking it in as though she could never have enough. She looked around her, she was in Ginny's room, safe. The Holy Harpies flew past her in the Quidditch posters taped to every wall, but Hermione particularly noticed Ginny, Ron, and Harry staring at her in horror, and Draco with understanding, and concern. They were all still in their pajamas. Had she woken them? Possibly not, it was clearly day that shined through the window.

"Are you okay," Draco asked slowly.

Hermione felt her night shirt cling to her back. Her locks was slightly damp. She started to cry, and Draco pulled her to him holding her firmly. "I was d-drowning," she said through her tears. "Nobody w-was answering m-me."

"I'm here," he said. "I heard you. I'm here."

"He called me a f-failure."

"Who?"

"Dad."

Draco's hold constricted her. "You're not. He loves you."

She gripped his bare shoulders, her cries lessening. She had been through much worse in her life than nearly drowning. Little did Harry, and Ron know she was plagued with nightmares from their adventures. After retrieving the Sorcerer's Stone, all she dreamt was giant chess pieces, and snake-like plants with a boa's instincts. When she saw those yellow eyes in the mirror in her second year it was all she saw at night, and inability to move. Eventually, they would give way to something more pleasant, but it was always to be expected.

Hermione gathered herself, and was released. She looked up to see that Mr., and Mrs. Granger had joined the ever growing spectators. She spotted George behind them.

Ginny decided to explain. "Hermione had a nightmare."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Hermione, did you contact your parents? Do they know you're here?"

"I'll owl them today," she said wearily.

"Okay then. Breakfast will be ready soon."

Slowly the room cleared until there was only the five of them again. Hermione didn't know what to say. Harry, and Ginny looked so sympathetic that all she wanted was for them not to direct it at her. Ron on the other hand had a very different emotion. He was growing redder by the second glaring at Draco's hand holding hers.

"I'm going to help mum. You two are going to help me." Ginny started to leave, dragging Harry behind her, but Ron wouldn't move.

"Why do I - OW!"

Ginny pinched his arm, and he left too, though reluctant, shooting glances over his shoulder at the remaining couple.

"They didn't give you a hard time, did they?" She had to ask.

"I was asleep when they came in."

Hermione swung her feet to the floor stretching. The nightmare left her in a state of not having a full nights sleep, but it had been sleep, and that was good enough.

"You look beautiful," Draco stated matter-of-factly.

She grinned knowing she looked a mess. Her hair was always extra unruly in the mornings. "So do you."

He did. Even in his green boxers, and ruffled he still looked good. She never minded waking up next to him, in fact she missed it greatly. She never got a good's night sleep without him, even without her nightmares.

"Obvious, but thank you." She smacked his shoulder playfully, and he chuckled. "Where're the bathrooms in this place?"

Hermione stood, and showed him one of two bathrooms down the hall. She took one, and he took the other. She half-expected Draco to join her again, but he whether or not he claimed to hold his own with Harry, and Ron, she knew he was in more danger here than at her parents. After all, expulsion or not, Harry, and Ron wouldn't pass up the opportunity to curse him.

Hermione dressed, and though she fussed, her hair was as manageable as it was going to get. She left the steaming bathroom, and pressed her ear against the other. She couldn't hear water running, or any indication that anyone was in there. She figured Draco must already be in the kitchen, but when she reached it she stopped in the doorway.

At the large table were a sea of red heads, and one black. There was not a blonde one. She became fearful, and went up to Harry, and Ron, flicking their heads. They both brought a hand up massaging the infliction, Mrs. Weasley scolding Ron for his language.

"What was that for, Hermione?" Ron asked angrily.

"Where's Draco?"

Harry looked confused, but Ron's ears turned crimson, and he faced his plate. It was a sign of guiltiness if she ever saw it. Harry detected this, and went back to his scone quickly.

"Ronald, what did you do?!"

George's fork fell with a clatter, and he checked his bare wrist. "Oh, I'm late, you know, being the owner of a shop has it's responsibilities." He snatched a piece of bacon from the platter, and ran out of the back door.

"I'm part owner, maybe I should -" Ron started to stand, but Hermione's hand fell on his shoulder sitting him back down.

Mr. Weasley leaned over the table, asking softly, "Ron, did you do something?" He knew full well that his son had, but he felt that he had to be the good parent, because his wife was sure not going to be easy on him.

Ron didn't say a word, and Hermione grumbled running back upstairs. Fury filled her. She should have known that Ron couldn't behave himself, he never did. She turned into his room. It was a disaster, clothes strewn about, his Chuddly Cannon's blanket half on the ground. Every time she had come in there she wanted to gauge her eyes out at the amount of orange. She'd wish he got over the infamous Quidditch team, they were never going to win a game.

Through the mess she saw a cage that used to contain his pet rat, Scabbers. That was before they had found he was an actual wizard in their third year. Now, it caged a recognizable blonde ferret staring intently at her with pleading eyes. She went up to him, and whispered through the bars, "I'll get you changed back in a moment. Sorry, but you're faster than me, and I want to get my hands on Ron first." She walked out of the room, storming back to the kitchen.

Ron hadn't move from his spot. Undoubtedly Mrs. Weasley refused to let him leave. She was silently fuming at him. Everyone else sat uncomfortably around waiting for the blow.

"A ferret," Hermione screeched. "You turned him into a ferret!"  
"Ron," Mrs. Weasley yelled. "You go back up there, and change him back right now! You're not even supposed to do magic! You'll be expelled, did you think of that?"  
"I didn't change him! George did, I paid him five knuts." Ron's voice got lower, and lower with every word.

Hermione took a step back in Mrs. Weasley's rage. Mr. Weasley rounded up Harry, and Ginny, and ushered them, along with Hermione out of the room. "Don't want to be here," he said.

They were in the sitting room, when Harry's sniggering became audible. He held his side as if he could hardly hold it in.

"It's not funny, Harry," Hermione scolded, sounding a little too much like Mrs. Weasley.

"It isn't," Ginny agreed. "Harry, stop it!"

Harry bent at the waist, "I'm sorry," he gasped, not sounding sorry at all.

Mr. Weasley sighed tiredly. "Usually the pranks doesn't start until _after_ breakfast. Don't fret, Hermione, I'll change him back now."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley."

Ron returned from the kitchen. The sounds of pots, and pans being hazardless thrown around was clear behind him. He remained red in the face, especially the ears. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he mumbled.

"Why," she seethed. She knew his apology wasn't genuine, not when his mother was throwing utensils around the kitchen. It took Ron a lot longer to apologize than that.

He shook his head sadly, not answering. He could hardly look into her eyes. It was almost like he was staring into a bright light, and he had to shield them, or be blinded.

"Ron, you're such a git," his sister said.

Soon there were loud footsteps bounding down the stairs. Draco emerged, and Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him angrier. He raged towards Ron pushing him onto the floor.

"A bloody ferret, eh, Weasel?" Draco pulled out his wand pointing it at his chest. "I wonder what rodent you should be!"  
Hermione seized the wand from his grasp stepping between them. She could hear Ron thanking her, but she glanced over, and spat, "shove it, Ron," and turned back to Draco. "Calm down."

"Calm down?! He paid his brother to turn me into a fucking ferret, Hermione, and you expect me to calm down?"

"I'm not defending him -"

"Then what the hell are you doing?"

"Have some respect for Mr., and Mrs. Weasley, this is their house. Believe me, Ron will get what he deserves."

Draco breathed hard out of his nose like a bull seeing a waving cloth in front of him. "Sometimes, Hermione, I wonder who you really love."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a smart witch, why don't you figure it out."

"Hey," Harry said curtly. "Why don't we all just take a break? Draco, I haven't kicked your arse for a while in Quidditch, how about you, and me, a game?"

Draco didn't take his eyes off of Hermione. "Sounds good, but be warned Potter, you don't have a referee."

The two left the room still arguing points of the game. Ron had gotten to his feet, and placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She wanted to shrug it off, but it was comforting. She was nearly shaking with anger. She didn't know how Draco could have said that he didn't know who she loved. Then it came to her what he said before she fell into the pool. The way Ron looks at her...

She turned around to face him, finally paying attention to the gaze he was giving her. It was soft, and caring. She still didn't see it. "Why," she asked again.

"He's Malfoy..."

"That's not good enough!"

"He doesn't deserve you. You're too good for a lot of blokes, Hermione, but you're way too good for him. Last term I said I was sorry... I was, and am. I'm sorry that I can't accept it, not after the way he's treated us - the way he's treated you. I don't know if I can ever accept it." He walked past her, his shoulder lightly brushing hers.

She wanted to cry again. She was crying too many tears lately. It couldn't be healthy. Ginny swept a strand of her brown tresses behind her ear sweetly.

"You want to go watch Draco get pummeled?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh, yes."

They walked through the kitchen to the back door. Past the garden with the aimless gnomes that resembled large walking potatoes there was a hill where two broomsticks flew catching a flying walnut. Even if they had a real snitch, they wouldn't be able to use it. They had to watch how high they flew, because there were muggles that could spot them.

They went to sit on the grassy hillside watching their boyfriends fly, and shoot insults at each other. "They'll never get along," Hermione mused entertained by it.

Ginny chortled. "I don't think they'd have it any other way."

"I don't either."

Draco took a glance down at her from the sky unable to avert his attention back to the game. They held each others gazes filled with their own apologies until a walnut hit him squarely on his forehead.

"Maybe you need an extra pair of eyes attached to that broomstick of yours, Malfoy," Harry yelled.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Renewed Respect

_Mom,_

_I'm sorry we left like we did. I suppose I was tired of the accusations. Draco's never hurt me, he never would. He risked his life to help our side of the war._

_You don't have to worry, we're staying with the Weasley's. We're doing okay._

_I love you._

_Hermione_

Hermione didn't know what else to say. She didn't want to seem cold, because she didn't blame her mother. It was her father she placed the blame on. That thought sent a pain of guilt through her. She had never acted this way towards her parents. She had never ran away. Two days of disagreements, and she lost it.

However, it wasn't just two days of disagreements. She had never felt that way before, like her parents didn't trust her. She had never gave them a reason not to. Never. She strived to be the best daughter, though she had no other siblings to compete with.

Was that her problem? Was she too caught up with being the best? She had always been that way, always felt the need to prove herself. She shouldn't have to with her parents, neither one of them. Her mother had been much like her, and her father had been rebellious in his day. She knew this from her grandparents.

Hermione had received Harry's permission to use Hedwig earlier. He was right about Errol, he was looking sickly.

She walked out of the room she was sharing with Ginny, and went across the hall to the boy's. Hedwig's perch was set up somewhere in that pigsty. She was about to knock when she heard voices from inside. It sounded like arguing.

"I don't have to answer to either of you," Draco spat.

"While you're living here you do," said Ron. "What _are_ you doing here?"  
"I don't have anyplace to go, trust me I wouldn't choose to be here in the birthplace of poverty."  
"Why you -"

"We're worried about her, Malfoy," Harry said softly interrupting Ron.

"There's nothing to worry about, she's in one piece, isn't she?"

Ron yelled, and Hermione could see in her minds eye that he was turning red. "She's been in hiding, been in the school's infirmary, the hospital, and this morning she was crying, all because of you!"

"You two put her in more danger in the last six years than I ever have -"

"We've never attempted murder -"  
"It wasn't attempted! It was an assignment, and if your small brain hasn't noticed, Weasel, she's still alive!"

"I refuse to accept that she's happy with you."  
"That's your problem, Weasel King."  
Harry broke through. "This isn't about you, it's about Hermione. Her parents mean the world to her, are you sure you didn't force her, Malfoy?"  
"Of course not! She wanted to go; I didn't even ask."

"Answer the question, do you love her?"

"Are you that thick too, Potter? You think I'm here because I want to be? It's because Hermione does. You two can't get over that she may be happy with me!"

"I don't care who's she's happy with as long as she's happy. If it's with you, then fine. I'm not standing in the way."

Hermione held bated breath. Ron didn't say anything. It was silent, and it echoed in her ears. What had that been all about?  
The door was slightly cracked, and she prodded it open. She leaned against the door frame looking from one shameful face to the next. Harry stood in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest gazing at his shoes. Ron, and Draco we're facing each other off their expressions contorted in rage, but when Hermione entered it was replaced with worry. She didn't say anything, she wanted them to be uncomfortable.

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets. "Weasel," he said getting Ron's attention away from her. "You love her?"

"You'll never be good enough."  
"I know."

Hermione stepped in. "If you want us to leave, we will."

Ron looked horrified at the thought. "No, we love having you here, Hermione. It's _him_ that we don't want."

"Then we'll leave."

Harry shook his head, placing a rough hand on Ron's shoulder. "Ron, if my family hated Ginny, then we would turn around, and never come back. I would never put her through this."

"You love her -"  
"And apparently Malfoy loves Hermione -"

"He's not good enough -"  
"I'm not good enough for Ginny!"

"That's different."

"How? You realize how much danger I've put you all through? If Voldemort had known about Ginny I can guantee she would've been the first one dead. She almost died once..."

Ron was nearly shaking. He had thought he lost his baby sister that year when she was taking in the chambers, and even worse was that he could do nothing about it, he was stuck behind boulders while his best mate rescued her. Hermione hugged him, and hesitantly he held her, his face buried in her tresses.

"Don't leave," he whispered. "He can stay, just don't leave."

Hermione let him go, seeing the mist in his colbat blue eyes, and nodded.

Draco gave a look that could kill, but quickly suppressed it, and he took her hand, and they left. He walked through the hall, down the stairs, and through the kitchen out to the backyard. She wanted to ask where exactly she was being taken, but decided against it. She wasn't sure how angry he was.

They finally stopped by the garden, and as though he was afraid he would never get the chance to do it again, he snogged her, hard. Hermione thought her lips might bruise, but she kissed him back, and his hands gripped her waist pulling her in. She ran her fingers along his neck when he pulled back.

"What was all that," she asked, not referring to just the kiss.

He knew this. "When you were crying this morning they blamed me."

"It wasn't about you -"  
"I know, but they don't see it that way. They're protecting you."

She laughed sadly. "All these years... You'd think they learned I can take care of myself. They've never doubted me before."  
"You weren't with me before. I think they suspect I've done something to you, keeping you under a spell."

"If you have, don't let it up." She went to kiss him again, and he yelled. Startled, she jumped back.

On the end of Draco's finger dangled a walking potato with razor sharp teeth. He swung his hand, and the gnome flew back into the garden. He held his injured finger yelling obscenities at it.

Hermione grabbed his hand inspecting the cut. Through the blood that gathered in her hands she saw three gashes lining his finger from the knuckle to the tip. "This ones bad."

He stared accusingly at her. "Are you _laughing_?!"

"No," she said, letting out a chuckle.

"You are, you're laughing."

"Come on, Mrs. Weasley can fix you up." She lead him in the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley stood at the counter flipping pages in a worn cookbook. She looked over as they came in, and sighed at the sight of blood, not surprised.

"Does this happen often," Draco asked without humor.

Mrs. Weasley waved a hand dismissively. "I've raised six boys. Blood is a natural occurrence. Charlie was constantly supporting cuts, and scrapes, even more now with the work he does."

Draco was sat in a chair as she searched one of the cabinets for a kit. "What does he do?"  
"Handles dragons in Romania." She opened the kit on the table. It was quite large, possibly held more with the use of magic. Hermione saw a number of odd instruments, and bottles that she didn't recognize. It could rival St. Mungo's.

"That makes a good deal of money."

Hermione smacked his arm, and he mouthed, "what?"  
"Yes, it does," she replied without tone. She opened a bottle dabbing some green goo on his finger. She rubbed it in gently, and he winced as it stung.

"What do the others do?"  
"Bill works for Gringotts as a curse breaker, right now he's in Cambodia, and Percy works at the Ministry under Shacklebolt."

Draco's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He didn't know how much money the older Weasley's made. Working in their line of work was dangerous, but it paid very well. Hermione resisted the urge to smack him again, and gave him a look to say "zip it."

Mrs. Weasley wrapped a white bandage around his finger, sealing it with her wand. "There you go dear, it'll be as good as new tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he said with a renewed respect.

"You're welcome. Now, supper will be ready in an hour. I'll call you."

They were then shooed from the kitchen into the sitting room. George was sitting on the floor with his Gobstones, and noticed immediately when they entered as though he'd been waiting. "Oy, you, Malfoy! Want a challenge?"

Draco shrugged, and sat across from him, and they set up the rules of the games. George had the habit of being sneaky, and finding loopholes. Hermione conviently forgot to tell him about this.

Hermione took a seat on the couch next to Ginny who was reading Witch Weekly. She placed it in her lap, and leaned to her friend, "what was that about upstairs? I heard Ron, and Draco all the way in here."

She raised an eyebrow. They had been loud, but not that loud.

"Okay, I had a little help with one of George's extendable ears."

Hermione grinned. When Ginny put her mind to it she was as bad as her brothers. "Your brother's a git."

"I know that," she said impatiently.

"It was the usual."

Ginny nodded in understanding, and while she went back to her magazine Hermione watched George, and Draco. Draco called George a cheat, and George grinned proudly.

Hermione mumbled to Ginny, "if you want us to leave -"

"No," she said instantly. "We love having you here, you know that. Draco is certainly no burden. Go figure. Ron will just have to get over it."

"And the others?"

"My parents don't mind, especially dad. He thinks it's funny that Malfoy's son is staying here." She turned a page idly. "Harry's more than willing to ignore him, and George is glad for the distraction."

"He's not doing well?"

"He gets better each month. He wanted to be alone for a while, and now it's like he's afraid to be."

Hermione remembered hearing the news of George's twin brother from Dumbledore. Hermione had cried thinking of the family. It wasn't fair, not at all, and now it occurred to her that she may be interrupting their grieving, but Ginny sensing this spoke up.

"He loved you, you know. Fred thought of you like a sister, we all do. It's only right that you're here with us. I'd like to think that at the funeral, he was the one who made Ron trip. A last joke for us," her voice cracked.

Hermione put an arm over her shoulders. The funeral for her was vivid. Fred was buried right after his death, but the real funeral took place the week of Easter break. Draco stayed at school while Hermione stayed with the Weasley's. They insisted that she come to the funeral for the exact reason just Ginny gave. For weeks she couldn't get the cold gray headstone out of her mind. It was too surreal. She tried desperately to forget about it. It broke her heart seeing Mrs. Weasley bawl as her husband held her close. Everyone cried, but that was what struck a cord in Hermione's heart, that and George sitting there hours after they left claiming to want to be alone with his brother.

Draco huffed wiping his wet face on his sleeve, the result of a stone squirting water. "You cheat, Weasel!"

Hermione, and Ginny laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Better Than A Malfoy

The tapping was what woke Hermione up the next morning. Hedwig sat outside of Ginny's window with an envelope clamped in her beak. She looked over at Ginny's bed seeing a lump beneath the covers. She slept heavily.

Hermione slid out of bed, and sleepily opened unlatched the window letting Hedwig fly over to the desk. She took the letter, and ripped it open, Hedwig hooting proudly.

_Hermione,_

_We miss you. Please don't let what your father say to you influence your decision to leave. You'll be back for your final year at Hogwarts, and we'd like to have more than a couple of days with you. It's lonely around the house when you're gone._

_Draco is more than welcome to come back. I promise your father will behave this time. Please come home._

_Love, Your Mom_

_P.S. The owl is beautiful, and so friendly._

Hermione felt the tears sting in her eyes. She clutched the letter tightly, considering it. She did miss her parents, and a part of her wanted to go home. She could visit, and see if her father really would behave himself. She had to at least retrieve some of her belongings if she was going to stay at the Weasley's further. She had to borrow Ginny's clothing, and was thankful that they were near the same height, and built.

She left the letter on the desk, and walked to the boys room. Softly she knocked, and poked her head in. Each on their own beds, they slept. While Harry still had all of his covers on, Ron had knocked his off into a pile by his feet, and Draco's were wrapped in coils around his legs.

She bent next to him. For a few moments she watched him. His fit chest rising, and falling rhythmically, his face innocent, and restful, a strand of fair hair falling to his eye. With a single finger she swept it away, moving down to his lips, running it along its softness. She leaned close, kissing him, and then he was kissing her back, his fingers holding her head not letting her pull away. It slid to her neck, to her jaw line. She jerked back.

"Harry - Ron."

He groaned. "You know it's a turn-off when you say your friend's names."

She giggled quietly. "I need to talk with you. Sitting room? I think everyone's still asleep."

He nodded. Despite their carefulness the boards in the hallway, and staircase creaked, but didn't wake anyone. When they came into the sitting room they sat on the couch facing each other.

Hermione took a breath. "My mum wrote."

He waited for more.

"She wants me to come home, and to bring you too."

"What're they going to do next? Hang me?"

Neither of them found this funny. "She says that my father will behave."

He snorted.

"I take that as a no?"

Draco took her hands in his. "If you want to go, go, but I won't."

"Then I won't either."

"Don't do this for me..."

She shook her head signaling for him to stop. "I'm not cutting my parents out. I love them, and I'll forgive them, but right now it's not going to work being in their house. If you don't come, where will you go?"

"I'll find someplace -"

"I'm staying with you. But first I have to go there, and get some of my belongings. I can't keep wearing Ginny's clothes."

He tugged at the white camisole top. "I think they're... Sexy."

"Then date her," she joked.

"Yes, and then you can watch Harry, and all of the Weasley's tear me into pieces."

She kissed his cheek, and stood. "I'll go get dressed, then leave."

"How're you going to get there?"

"George will take me."

Hermione changed into another set of Ginny's clothes, jeans, and a black tank top. She walked past the bathrooms to a burnt door loose on its hinges, the result of too many explosions. She wondered how it was there at all. She knocked a bit louder than she did on the boys room, and the door swayed threateningly.

George answered, his hair on end. Behind him she could see a bigger mess than Ron, and Harry's. She couldn't tell if there was a floor underneath the mountains of clothes, and other assorted items she couldn't make out.

"Whatisit," George grumbled.

"I was hoping you could apparate me to my parents. Straight to my bedroom."

His eyes opened wider. "You know, Hermione, you're a sweet girl, and all, pretty in fact, but I think you, and I wouldn't work. All those house points you took from me left us beyond repair."

Hermione smirked. "Yes, it's tragic, but that's not what I had in mind. I wanted to get some of my things."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

He held her hand firmly, and in a pop they appeared in Hermione's room. He took one look around, and mumbled "cute." She looked him over. He wore Quidditch boxers, and the crumpled gray shirt.

"You could've changed," Hermione said.

"You said 'now'," he pointed out.

She wanted to make a remark, but didn't. He was her only way back. She opened her closet, and began pulling articles of clothing from their racks. "Have to hurry, don't want my parents catching me here."

"Too late," he said.

Hermione glanced to the doorway, and her heart sunk to its depths. Her father stood there in his white dentistry uniform, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes dull, he looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Who's he," he demanded.

George held out a hand politely, not put off by the look of hatred that was being given to him. "George Weasley, sir."

Mr. Granger thought this over. "A Weasley... Better than a Malfoy." He shook his hand, taking in his pajamas with interest.

Hermione threw the shirt in her hand down earning a glower from her father. "Mum said that you were okay if we came back." She should have known better. She mentally kicked herself. "You know, I'm glad we decided to stay with the Weasley's."

Her father's face fell from anger. "You mean, you're not coming home?"

"No! I'm only here to get my things, then I'll leave."

"I was hoping you'd come to your senses, but in this case you're not leaving here. I'm still your father, and I still have some say so over you. So mind your mouth, young lady, and put your clothes back."

Hermione sighed hopelessly thinking of his disappointed face, and the nightmare she had. Who was she to argue with her father? When had she lost the respect they deserved? "Yes, sir."

George looked from daughter to father, and said, "sir, she'll be of age in September."

"Yes, September, it's June. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, and bringing my daughter back, but you can leave now."

"No, sir, I don't think I can."

"Excuse me?"

"She lives with us now."

"She lives here."

"Not anymore. Are you almost done, Hermione?"

Before she could answer her father grabbed George by the front of his shirt. "You're not taking her anywhere!"

Hermione had never seen her father act that way. He was normally a kind, and gentle man. Though she supposed that if her daughter had run off with a boy she disapproved of she would be hysterical too.

"You love your daughter," George stated. "I love her too. She's been my sister since she was eleven. She's spent holidays, and summers with us. She attended my brother's funeral. I refuse to let her be unhappy, and if being with Malfoy makes her happy then damnit I'll make sure she's with him. Believe me, sir, I don't like him anymore than you do. Now, unhand me."

When Mr. Granger didn't let go, Hermione held his arm, and said, "there's nothing you can do to stop me."

Then he released George, and said the words she most feared. "You disappoint me, Hermione."

She kept her head down, her mane falling to the sides of her face like a curtain hiding the tears that made her surroundings blur. She threw her clothes in her school trunk, slamming, and latching it. She fell on her knees, and reached blindly for George's hand, and when he took it she felt the horrible feeling that they were being sucked through a tube, and knew that they had apparated back into the house.

Hermione felt George's hands on her shoulders pulling her to his chest. She collapsed against him, and cried. Soon she sat back, and croaked, "this is stupid, isn't it?"

George shrugged, "if my parents acted that way towards Angelina, then I wouldn't be too happy either."

She paused. "Angelina? Johnson?"

He grinned. "Supreme Gryffindor chaser? The one, and only."

A voice from downstairs interrupted yelling, "you liar!"

George helped Hermione to her feet, and grabbed his wand from his bedside. Ginny rushed in wheezing. "Ron - Draco - Fight - Can't - Stop - Them."

They ran to the sitting room where they saw Ron tackling Draco to the floor, Harry trying desperately to separate them. The three were shouting, and not a word could be understood.

George lowered his mouth to Hermione's ear. "Five sickles on my brother."

She gave him a dirty look. "We can't let this go on." She went to stop it, but George grabbed her arm.

"Spoil sport," he said raising his wand in the air. A loud boom echoed, dust falling from the ceiling speckling them, but even that didn't stop the fight.

Hermione sprinted to them, grabbing Ron's arms prying him off, almost losing her grip on him once. She held one arm, while Harry held the other. Draco got steadily to his feet, blood trickling from his lip, his right eye, and jaw bruising.

"What's this about," Hermione panted.

Harry breathed just as heavily. "Ginny saw that you were missing - Looked everywhere for you - Guess she found you."

"Where were you," Ron fussed at her.

"George took me to my parents!"

"Yeah, I'd like to thank everyone who noticed I was missing," George announced from the stairs. "Don't mind me, I'll get your trunk to Ginny's room."

"Thanks," she called back not taking her eyes off of Ron. There was a small discoloration under his eye, but otherwise looked unharmed. "Where're your parents," she asked knowing that if Mr., and Mrs. Weasley heard the scuffle they would have broken up the fight long before George, and Hermione got back.

"Diagon Alley."

She noticed that she remained holding Ron's arm, and hastily dropped it. She roughly took Draco's, and led him into the kitchen. Silently she sat him in the same chair where his finger was seen to. She reached up into the cabinet Mrs. Weasley kept the aid, and opened it on the table.

"I didn't start it," he assured.

"I know." She picked up a cloth dampening it under the tap, and pressed it to his lip soaking up the blood. He didn't grimace, but simply stared at her as if worrying it could turn into a fight.

"They thought I did something..."

Hermione snorted, "right... Those boys don't use their heads. If you did something to me, I'd think you'd have enough sense not to stick around. I thought they were okay with this..."

He yanked back from her. "I can't stay here, Hermione. If I wanted the shit beat out of me I would live with my parents." He did wince at that.

Hermione didn't know what they would do. They had nowhere to go; no money. Every morning Draco would check the paper, but no jobs had opened, and he remained adamant not to receive any help, particularly from Harry.

She laid down the cloth, and took a slab of steak from the freezer. "Hold that over your bruises. I have to talk with Ron."

In the sitting room Hermione saw Ron on the couch, elbows on his knees. Harry stood beside him, and she mouthed for him to stay. He nodded, complying.

Under his breath, Ron spoke, knowing she was there, giving him the look she always gave him. One of exasperation, and kindness. "I can't get it out of my head that he's going to do something to you. I'm sorry for being such a git. I can't forgive him for all those years. I'm not Harry; I'm not that nice."

"You are," she said, "you just need time."

"No," he said forcefully. "I don't like living with him. It sickens me to wake up, and see him in my room. It's not right. It wasn't supposed to be this way."

Hermione sat next to him, taking his large hand. "How was it supposed to be?"

"I don't know... But not like this. Mind you, I love having you here, you know I do. He's Malfoy... I can accept it, I can get over this, but not while he's here. It's too much."

Hermione understood. Ron could only take so much. She couldn't expect him to be okay with it so soon. It was unfair to him.

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "This is enough drama for today. We'll figure something out tomorrow. Think you can hold out that long, Ron?"

He nodded silently, and they all looked up when the front door opened. Mr., and Mrs. Weasley standing there with an armful of mysterious shapes wrapped in brown paper.

"Ronald, what happened?!" Mrs. Weasley dropped the purchases by the couch, and took her son's face in her hands.

Harry jumped into an explanation of the days events, slowing to where Ron attacked Draco, uneasy getting his best mate in trouble, and that's where Ron picked up, and took the blame. It earned him a near an hour lecture from his mother.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

A Reason To Celebrate

The morning dew clung to the overgrown grass. It dampened Hermione's socks, causing chills to ripple over her skin. She draped her fuzzy blue bathrobe over her nightgown, and wished she had properly dressed, perhaps in something warmer, though the summer air was muggy. It was early enough that the sun hadn't made an appearance, and the gnomes were still in their holes.

"I'm going to curse, Potter," Draco yawned grumpily. He wasn't a morning person by any means. He wrapped his school robe tighter around him.

It was four in the morning when Harry rapped at Ginny's door, sliding a note underneath. He wrote that he wanted to see her, and Draco in the shed in Burrow's backyard. It was too early to come up with detailed guess, but it was a good chance that it was about the living situation they all shared.

The shed was barely standing, the wood splintering, and the door only just hung on. Hermione carefully opened it with the toe of her trainers, and was greeted by... Junk. There were crates of plugs taking up two corners, an old radio with parts splayed across a workbench, and a busted television. Leaning against one wall was Sirius' bike, the same that Hagrid used to take Harry out of the rubble that was his first home.

Harry sat on the bike fully dressed in jeans, and a shirt that was two sizes too large. It looked as though he had been up for a long while.

"You better have a good excuse for this, Potter," Draco warned.

He ignored this, and addressed Hermione. "Do you remember Grimmauld Place?"

"The house Sirius left you," she answered. There was no forgetting that house. It was dark, and in more ways than a lack of lighting. There was no complaining, however, because it was safe, and that was as much as they could ask for when they were staying the summer with the Order in their fifth year.

Harry held up a small rustic key. "I'm giving it to you." He pressed it into her palm.

She shook her head, "oh, no, Harry. I couldn't -"

"Yes, you can."

"Why," Draco asked suspiciously, and rudely.

"Sirius hated it there, and I can't... It should be put to use, the Order's done with it, and I've found a place, so please, take it."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Draco!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Harry -"

"No, it's fine. I'll be honest, Malfoy, there's a lot of work that needs to be done, but it's livable."

"What's the catch, Potter?"

"Aside from keeping my friend happy? When you get a job, you pay me monthly rent." Harry glanced from one to another. "Is it a deal?"

Draco grinned at Hermione, and she grinned back. "Sure," he said, quickly shaking his hand.

Hermione knew that Harry didn't need the money. If it was just her, he wouldn't even ask for it, but he knew there was no way Draco was going to accept on any other terms. She threw her arms around Harry's neck. "Thank you," she whispered, meaning more than for the house, but for the promise he made her on her first day at the Burrow.

The rest of the morning Draco, and Hermione were packing. Hermione didn't have much since it was only yesterday she got her things from her parents, and she was able to join the rest of the family for breakfast. Draco declined help, and refused food while he was ready to walk out the door, even though they agreed to wait until tomorrow.

Hermione sat between Ron, and Harry in the bustling kitchen. Plates clattered, family happily chatted, and the aroma of buttered toast, eggs, and bacon.

Hastily Ron swallowed whatever was in his mouth. "Hey, Hermione. Ginny said you're leaving?"

She spread a thin layer of marmalade over her toast. "Harry gave us Grimmauld Place, we're leaving tomorrow."

Mrs. Weasley who overheard this cried out in surprise. "You don't have to leave."

"That's really kind of you, Mrs. Weasley, but we don't want to overstay our welcome."

"Nonsense, dear."

She decided to reword it. "We don't want another incident."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "That is true. Our Ronnie appears to have forgotten his manners since he's become a hero." She said the word 'hero' with disdain.

Ron's ears turned red, and he began to push his food around with his fork. Hermione would have felt bad for him if his mother hadn't been right.

Mrs. Weasley continued, "since it's your last day we should make it special. We'll have a big dinner -"

"What dinner here isn't big -" George muttered.

She smacked his arm, "and we'll set it all outside. Music, and dancing. It'll be fun!"  
George groaned, and his father eyed him carefully.

"This isn't necessary -"

"Let her do this, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said slowly. "We haven't had much reason for a party."

Hermione didn't argue further. She didn't think staying there for less than a week was call for a party, but she suppose that they wanted this. Any excuse was enough.

With little help from Mr. Weasley, and George, and plenty from Ginny, Mrs. Weasley set up the party she insisted by nightfall. Large tables sat out in the backyard covered with numerous foods, with small balls of light floating in mid-air over it. The Weird Sisters played by where Hermione assumed was the shed.

Somewhere amid the meal Angelina Johnson came through the back gate. She was a tall dark girl, with a smile brighter than the sun. George kissed her cheek, and pulled out a chair for her. This shocked Hermione. She didn't remember seeing George being a gentlemen, at least not without a goofy smile on his face.

Mr., and Mrs. Weasley were the first to stand up, and dance out by the garden. Harry took Ginny out next, and then George, and Angelina. Hermione watched, her stomach stretching with the food she consumed. She was starting to feel quite sleepy when Ron grasped Hermione's hand.

"Dance with me," he said dragging her out beside Harry, and Ginny.

Draco glared daggers, and instead of cutting into his potatoes he stabbed them, breaking through the plate, but Hermione shrugged her shoulders helplessly, and put her hands politely on his shoulders, while his were at her waist. It was almost too close for comfort, the feeling that it was wrong, but she danced on.

"Why Malfoy," he asked quietly for only her to hear. "Was it because neither of you could leave the house? I have to know."

Hermione considered this. She recalled where she said that it may have been a biological human condition, love, or kill. Draco differed with her. Neither one of them could explain it well, but they acknowledged that there was more between them than roommates, or even friends.

"I think that maybe it was always him. We just didn't see it."

Ron didn't ask any more questions. He seemed to have heard more than he could bear, and he enveloped her.

By the third song, Draco interfered. "My turn, Weasel, she's my girlfriend."

Ron kissed her cheek, and left to the tables.

Possessively he gripped her hips, intently looking into her eyes. "It's odd," he commented.

"What is?"

"This'll be our third time living together, and neither one of us has asked the other if they wanted to. It seems that fate has this way of bringing us together faster than we intended, or wanted."

Worry hit her gut. "Do you want this?"

He smirked, that Malfoy smirk. "More than I wanted anything in my life. I want you - need you, in my life. Without you all I have is this mark on my arm; my past. You're the only one who can see beyond it, even when I can't." He brushed her hair away, running a thumb over her cheek. "It'll be nice to snog you whenever I want, to share a bed with you, wake up to you every morning."

"Mmm," she mumbled, leaning her head back so he could kiss her, his lips melting her from the inside out, the music fading.

A squeal from Mrs. Weasley is what broke them apart. They looked wildly around, Draco's hand nervously on his wand until they saw Harry down on one knee in front of Ginny. His hands shook, holding a silver ring. Ginny's brown eyes were wide. Harry's mouth opened several times, before croaking out his question, "will you marry me," and Ginny nodded throwing herself at him, and they tumbled in the grass. Somewhere in the middle of that Harry slid the engagement ring on her finger.

Once they stood they were attacked by a crying Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley who shook Harry's hand roughly, but caringly. Hermione, and Ron ran up, and congratulated them. Hermione hugged Ginny, and then Harry.

"This is so great, for the both of you," Hermione said enthusiastically.

"This is one thing out of the way, Harry," Ginny said. "You found your best man, and I found my maid-of-honor."

They hugged again, and moved for George, and Angelina to give their wishes. Draco pulled Hermione back, particularly away from Ron, who in his opinion was too close. He enfolded her from behind, his lips near her ear, blowing softly in it. She giggled, and leaned into him.

George set off multi-color fireworks, and a sparkling red dragon that swam around them, lasting for hours until it finally faded into the sky. For the night they had a new reason to celebrate. A real one.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

A New Home

Grimmauld Place hadn't changed since Hermione's fifth year. It was still dark, and depressing. The halls were narrow, and the troll leg that held the umbrellas was knocked over from Tonks' last visit. _Her last visit ever,_ she thought sadly. A snake theme was shown throughout the house, in the legs of the kitchen table, to doorknobs, and knockers.

Sirius' mother screamed the moment they came in, "filthy half-breeds, mudbloods, traitors, in my house!" Harry immediately ran up the stairs to the second floor to draw her curtains over her portrait.

"What the bloody hell was that," Draco asked.

"The portrait of Sirius' mum. Charming woman."

"Sounds like my mum."

Hermione couldn't laugh at this, because she knew it had to be true. Worse yet his mother was the angel of the family, the least to be worried about. It was a miracle that Draco turned out as well as he did. He must have been the odd one out, like Dobby. She tried not to laugh at that thought.

Harry came back shaking his head in frustration. "Sorry about that, but no spell will shut her up."

"There is," Draco said. "Dark magic will do the trick."

He frowned. He didn't want dark magic to be done at all, even for a good cause, but he didn't say a word against it. He handed over the key, it was out of his hands, but Hermione shook her head to him to assure that she wouldn't allow it to be done.

Harry, Ginny, George, and Mr. Weasley helped carry their trunks to the house, Crookshanks, (the mangy orange cat, as Draco had begun to call him) scampered through it in search of mice. Hermione gave Draco a tour of each room, and at the end said,

"I love it." Somehow, she wasn't surprised.

"Do you need any help cleaning, Hermione?" Ginny asked before they all left.

"No, I'll get started tonight, and hopefully it'll be done by the end of this week." She took another look around the hallway, the dirt like paint on the walls, the intricate cobwebs strung over every corner. "Or summer."

"Call if you need anything," Mr. Weasley said. "We'll be happy to help. Even Ron. We'll keep them in separate rooms," he said.

"Thanks, all of you."

Draco disappeared somewhere upstairs, and Hermione grabbed Harry's arm before he could leave after the rest. "Harry, you remember our promise?"

"It's done."

She kissed his cheek, and he left.

Three hours later she had cleaned the hallway, and kitchen on the first floor, and the stairs leading to the second. She began with the first room to her right. She spent another four hours in there. Noon had past, and it was steadily getting darker outside, but it's not like she could tell, the windows were so thick with grime it was impossible to tell.

Hermione sat in amid the room that used to be a sitting room. A moth-eaten couch, a fireplace with missing bricks, and shreds of curtains. She ran her sleeve across her forehead where sweat had gathered. There were two more floors to go. If she worked twenty-four hours everyday for the rest of the summer, she still may not finish. Her clothes were black, her hands, and arms sore. It was hard doing things the mortal way, especially cleaning. A couple of spells, and she could have had most of the room done hours ago.

Beneath her nose a plate with a single sandwich was dropped, stirring the dust around it. She glimpsed up, and saw Draco sitting across from her.

"Where have you been," she asked. She hadn't seen him since the others left.

He shrugged mysteriously. "Around. It's a big house."

"Not as big as the manor." She knew the Malfoy Manor had to be five times as big, and spotless.

"Of course not, the manor is the biggest house in half of Britain. You know, aside from the castles, though it could be compared."

"Spoiled brat," she muttered.

Draco pretended he didn't hear this. "You've worked all day. Rest."

"I can't, not until this house is spotless." She took a bite of the sandwich tasting grape jelly, and peanut butter.

"You're going to kill yourself."

"At least I will die in a clean house."

He laughed. "Only you, Hermione, will find the good in death."

"Well, honestly, Draco I doubt that anyone has died from cleaning too much."

"You'd be the first," he grabbed the sandwich eating the rest of it with one bite. He helped her up, and began to lead her out.

"No, I need to put that in the sink -"

"Leave it," he interrupted.

"We don't have houselves to do the work for us," she snapped.

"Just come with me, I haven't had much of a time to be with you at the Weasel's. There's too many of them to be sneaky."

Hermione laughed, and let herself be taken away. He picked her up in his arms, treating her like she was light as a rag doll, and she grasped his shoulders in fear of falling. He carried her to the room at the end of the hallway, dropping her onto something soft.

They were in the room they designated to be their bedroom. They didn't have any furniture, so they laid a good twenty blankets to form a pallet on the floor. It was spotless clean, and Hermione realized that was what Draco must have been doing all day, cleaning their bedroom. She beamed, noticing how the moon shined in through the large arched window, and the candles floating above them casting long shadows.

"You're such a Slytherin, sneaky to the core."

He shrugged off his shirt. "I'm sneaky, rude, selfish, callous, and you, Hermione, are sweet, courageous, beautiful, faithful, and the smartest bookworm I've laid eyes on. We counteract each other, and that is what I believe makes us work. We challenge each other." He laid next to her running his hand along her stomach.

She moved to her side, propping her head on her arm. "We've should've realized it sooner. I could've kept you out of a lot of trouble."

Draco chuckled, "if anyone is the trouble-maker it is you. Don't think that I believe Harry, and Ron were the culprit of those adventures of yours. They're not that smart."

She playfully smacked his shoulder before grasping his neck, and kissing him. She bit his bottom lip, and he moaned deeply.

He pushed her on her back, climbing on top of her. "damn you, Granger, the influence I have on you."

She grinned, caressing his back, feeling the smoothness of his muscles, the weight on her. It was perfect. "Oh, Malfoy, there's nothing that you've seen that wasn't there before."

Suddenly he stopped, as if just remembering something. "I have an interview tomorrow. There was an opening in department of Misuse of Magical Artifacts."

Hermione buried her head in the crook of his neck to hide her blushing. "That's great, Draco."

He breathed in her scent, and bit her neck, hard, shoving her dirty shirt over her breasts. The rest of the night was blissful, as it always was, and as she laid underneath him, she knew it couldn't get better.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Goodbye

The following morning Hermione stretched, feeling the blanket slide over her naked body. She grinned thinking back to the events of last night. He really should stop doing that, or else she would never get anything done.

She reached over, expecting to feel his chest, or arm, but felt only blankets. She sat up, the quilt pooling at her waist. On his pillow there was a folded note. Opening it her eyes scanned the parchment of gleaming emerald words.

_Hermione,_

_You looked so peaceful I couldn't wake you. I'm at the Ministry for my interview. I'll be home afterwards._

_Draco_

She sat it down, and picked up her clothes that were discarded last night at the side of the pallet. Dressing quickly, she jogged to the kitchen to get a muffin out of a pantry, and went upstairs to the room she had been forced to abandon. A bucket of soapy water, and several black rags waited. Her parents would have been proud, cleaning an entire house the muggle way.

"Aunt Petunia would faint."

Hermione swung around, dish water spraying the wall. Harry stood in the doorway looking around with an amused smile playing on his lips thinking of his aunt that was nearly as nice as Sirius' mother.

"What are you doing here, Harry," she said grinning.

"Thought you could use help. This used to be a pastime of mine, and you know I'm the best at it. Muggle cleaning is my specialty." He knelt next to the bucket, and began scrubbing.

"You have a wand, you know."

He stopped, and looked over at her. "Yes, but you don't, and I don't expect you'll let me clean every room for you, will you?"

"No."

"Thought so," he scrubbed harder.

Three rooms, and ninety minutes later they ate lunch, a small portion of soup that was found in the pantry. After washing the dishes Hermione walked Harry to the door.

"Good luck," she said referring to the Quidditch match he had against Ron, and Ginny that night. "Wish I could come watch, but there's still so much more to do here."

"Do you need me to come tomorrow?"

"Thanks, but you've done plenty. I owe you a lot."

"You owe me nothing. That's what friends are for."

"Draco's not your friend."

"I wasn't speaking of Draco," he hugged her, and apparated.

An hour later, she was cleaning the fifth room on the second floor. She only managed to get a quarter of one wall clean when Draco bounded up the steps. He ran into the empty room, and picked up a rather dirty Hermione swinging her around. Just as she was getting dizzy he dropped her to her feet.

"I was hired," he said exultantly, but there was something more, a glint in his eyes. Hermione carefully stepped back.

"That's wonderful! Congratulations!"

The smile was gone. "Yeah, thank Potter for me."

Her stomach gave a threatening jolt. "H - how'd you find out?"

"Oh, Shacklebolt just _happened_ to mention it to me. Slip your mind, didn't it? Forget to tell me you put in a favor? How _dare_ you!" He stepped closer, and closer until her back hit a wall.

"I - I was just trying to help."

"I told you I wanted to do this on my own." His chest pressed against hers, his breath on her face. It would've been a turn on if he wasn't looking so deadly.

"Did you take the job?"

"Shacklebolt talked me into it. He said even if you hadn't put in your little request I would've still gotten it."

"That's good then."

His hand slammed into the wall beside her head, and she closed her eyes forgetting to breathe. "For once, Granger, why don't you mind your own?! Do you have that little faith in me?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open at this. "I have a lot of faith in you," she gasped.

"It shows," he uttered sarcastically.

"I'm sorry. Thought you'd be happy."

"Happy?! You thought this would make me happy?! My girlfriend shouldn't have to put in favors, at least not those kind!"

"At least you were hired!"

"So you admit it! You don't think I would've been hired."

"I didn't say that!"

His voice dropped low, his nose nearly touching hers. "You know, you never did answer me. Who you love more."

Not even a week ago, when he had been brought back from his ferret form, she thought the question had been rhetorical. After everything, how could he ask that? "I love them in a different way -"

His hand smashed the wall again. "Don't give me that!"

Her heart pounded, her throat dry, eyes wet, she was filthy, and tired. There was a fight everyday, there was always something. She was breaking. "Then what do you want," she yelled. "What is it? Do you want me to lie, because I can't do that!"

"Let me ask you this, what would've happened if you were in the house with one of them?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! It matters to me."

"Why?"

"Because I have to know that you're mine. Only mine."

"That's a tad possessive -"

"I'm selfish, Hermione, you knew this."

"Yes, I did, but I didn't know how jealous you were!"

He raised his hand, and Hermione coward, her wand left on the floor feet away. His hand came crashing into the wall shaking it, excess dust falling. She had ducked, her knees to her chest protectively.

"When are you going to get it through your head, I'm not going to hit you!"

Hermione cried, the knee of her jeans soaking up her tears. "You don't have to hit me to hurt me."

"...Go away, Granger." He stormed away from her, the door slamming behind him.

Her heart broke, but she rid her tears, picked up her wand. She peeped out of the door, listening to the sound of their bedroom door closing. She left passing a few rooms in the hall, and slipped into the study, or what would have been the study.

It had come a long way in improvements. It was virtually dust free, the curtains, and couch being thrown out. With the windows sparkling clean it let in every ray of sunlight.

In the corner was her books, and writing supplies. Quickly, she wrote him a letter, straining to hear if he was coming to look for her. She knew better, he would be avoiding her for the rest of the day, and probably tomorrow.

_Draco,_

_I'll have someone pick up my things later. I'm sorry that you gave up so easily on us. You can tell me to leave, but I want you to know it won't stop me loving you, I was just trying to help you. I won't do it again._

_With Much Love, Hermione_

On the mantle was a small bowl of floo powder. She folded the letter, and propped it next to it. Hermione took a handful, and threw it in. Green flames shot up, and she bent inside. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," she said loud, and clear, and was swept away in the inferno.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Over Now

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Without looking up, Hermione nodded. She felt more grateful for George then than she had in her life, and she wasn't sure that was possible. All of the trouble he had caused her as a prefect made up for this moment.

They stood in front of white two story house. Her parents house. It was only a fight, but that was what her summer was made up of, fights. Useless, petty fights. She ran away from Draco like she had her parents. She was tired of fighting, and tired of running. She wanted peace. It was ironic that she would go to George with help in obtaining it, but he was the only one capable of apparating her.

It would have been an understatement to say that he was surprised when she came into his shop. He dropped a vial of gold liquid that fizzed when it hit the floor. With a wave of his wand it was cleaned up, and she told him little of the fight, only that she wanted to go home, her parents home. She was grateful at his lack of questions, though he did ask if he could curse Draco, to which she said, "not now, maybe later."

George walked her to the door, and stopped her before she could knock. "I think I better leave now... Your father may attack me." He cuffed her shoulder gently. "Good luck." He ran down the steps to go back to the alleyway in which they appeared. Even if it were high noon it was too risky to do any sort of magic in a muggle community.

Once George was out of sight she pressed the button for the doorbell, and heard the short, sweet jingle inside. The door opened, and her mother stood with a hand towel in one hand, the other to her mouth crying when she saw her daughter. She looked as bad as her father had, her normally beautiful hair in knots, her skin pallid.

"Hermione! Oh, my, Alfred! Alfred, she's home!" She pulled Hermione in for a squeezing hug knocking the wind from her lungs.

Mr. Granger appeared behind his wife, grinning from ear to ear when he saw her. He hugged her as well. When they all finally separated, her mother closed the door, and looked her over.

"Hermione, why are you so dirty?"

She looked down. What had once been a white top had turned black, and no one would have been able to tell that her jeans were in fact blue. "Cleaning a house... I'll explain everything later, do you mind if I take a shower?"

"No, go ahead."

Hermione promptly went to her room. It hadn't changed in the slightest since she last saw it. She didn't expect it to. In the bathroom she shed her attire, and ran hot water. Brown swirled into the drain as she became clean for the first time since arriving at Grimmauld Place. She wondered if Draco knew of her disappearance, if he had found the note yet.

She felt ashamed of herself. What kind of person was she becoming? This wasn't like her. She was mad that there couldn't be a moment of relaxation in her summer. She had yet to do her potions assignment, and that was certainly not her. Yet between all the moves she hadn't found the time. Again, not like her.

She plopped down in the tub, letting the spray wash over her, her fringe in her sore eyes. Draco asked her to leave. He didn't want her there anymore. How could one fight that? With all of her book smarts, and superb marks in school she was still a girl, and at times could be quite sensitive. It showed all those times she fussed at Harry, and Ron, how her boggart told her she failed.

She looked up to see the corner of the shower. The spot that Draco, and her had... _He doesn't want me,_ she reminded herself. How could a _corner_ induce such sadness?

The water started to become cold. It was like beads of ice prickling her back. Gracefully she got to her feet, and finished her shower.

Her parents waited for her in the kitchen. Her mom set out three cups of tea reminding her sharply of Mrs. Weasley. They patiently listened as Hermione explained the born hatred between Ron, and Draco. She spared them details of her, and Draco. No parent should be subjected to hear such stories. In the simplest way she could she said they weren't getting along well. The fight was another detail not worthy of telling, and she didn't want to rehash it. It was too fresh in her mind.

"I knew that boy was trouble -"

"Alfred," her mother scolded. She gave a sympathetic glimpse to her daughter. "Whatever happens, sweetie, we're here for you."

"Dad," Hermione said carefully. "Do you think I'm a failure?"

Her dad seem genuily surprised. "Why would you ask that?"

"Last time I was here... You said I disappointed you."

Her father's face fell at the memory. He reached across the table, and grabbed her hand. "I didn't mean that. I was angry, and I'm very sorry for it. It's one of a father's worst nightmare to have his daughter run off with a man with a tattoo that declares his hatred. I'm sorry, Hermione. You could never disappoint me. You've been the best daughter anyone could hope for."

"I'm not sorry about Draco, because I do love him, but I'm sorry I treated you the way I did."

"It's over now. You look tired, take a nap, we'll wake you for supper."

Hermione kissed her parents cheek, feeling the guilt, and worry melt. She left her cold tea on the table, and went to her room. She fell on her bed, sleep itching at her eyes.

She knew that her parents were discussing her, and she had half the mind to eavesdrop, but it wasn't worth it. She was home now, she was safe, and she would take a step at a new start. She would go to Hogwarts in September, finish her education, and go to a wizarding law school, taking up a firm. She wouldn't think about Draco again. As far as she would be concerned, the past month never happened.

Her father was right. It was over now.

Hermione was unsure of how long she had been asleep, but stirred with the insistent knocking at her door. She had grown accustomed to not being shocked at wherever she woke up at, so the baby blue walls, and her own bed didn't bother her, not like it the strange atmosphere when she had lived with Draco last year, or her short stay at the Burrow.

The knocking persisted, and she groaned. Normally she would jump out of bed to answer it, but she was sore, her whole body ached. She didn't think she'd ever worked so hard in her life.

Finally the knocking stopped, and Hermione felt the light shift of weight on her bed. She cracked open an eye, and saw a scrawny boy, with unruly hair, and thick glasses. "Harry," she croaked.

"Afternoon sunshine," he said.

"What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "Five. Just sent out an owl to let everyone know you were here. We suspected you'd be at your parents."

"What're you going on about?"

"Malfoy saw that you were missing, and came by the Burrow looking for you. Haven't seen him that scared since you smacked him, or whenever he was in Moody's presence."

She laughed. Moody was the first person to turn him into a ferret. Granted it was a deatheater impersonating Moody, but at that time it didn't matter who it was, the fact remained it was one of the best memories she could muster. She could produce a full-formed protranus from it.

"Why'd you leave? That's not like you, Hermione."

The smile fell. "He told me to. He said, 'go away, Granger.'"

"You two were arguing, it was out of context."

Hermione shot up, and Harry jumped back on the bed. "So, what if he had called me a mudblood? Since we were arguing I suppose he can say anything he wants to!"

"That's not what I meant."

"That's what you said!"

"Damn it, Hermione... When he came running into the house we thought he'd lost it. It became clear to everyone how much he loves you. Ron got a black eye from refusing to tell him where you were."

"Ron didn't know where I was."

"No, he didn't, he was messing with Malfoy's mind. That's when I promised I'd go look for you. Malfoy was in no condition to think straight, or else he would've known where to look for you."

Hermione sighed. He really did care. "Where is he?"

"Grimmauld Place. George made him leave before he hit someone else."

"I'm sorry about all this, Harry."

Harry patted her knee. "How long are you staying?"

"I don't know... Tell Draco I'm fine."

"He'll come for you."

She shrugged. A part of her wished he would. The other part was filled with anger at the whole situation. It was stupid to say the least. Then with a straying thought, she looked up at him, "are you going soft on Draco?"

He huffed. "Never. I'll hate that bloke to the grave."

"Then why are you helping him?"

"I hate him - not you, and this is the happiest I've ever seen you. If it's with him, then so be it."

Hermione grinned. It was like Harry to care more for what made someone happy then being self-involved. Ron was much like that too, however his aversion went much deeper. Draco was once rich, popular, and everything that Ron wasn't. The jokes about his family, lack of wealth, and such were hitting nerves that Draco knew were there.

Harry glanced at his old watch, the one Mrs. Weasley gave him for his seventeenth birthday. "Okay then. I'd better go. Take care, Hermione." He kissed her forehead, and left through the ajar door.

Hermione ran her fingers through her hair. It hit her suddenly, and without warning. She knew why she left, and it wasn't only because Draco told her to. She had to know she was wanted. Draco had given up everything for her, and she still expected him to turn around, and be Malfoy, the boy that spat mudblood at her in their second year. How could she have been so foolish? She should've realized it earlier.

The books, the smarts, everything that made Hermione who she was covered the fact that she was in fact a girl. All the insecurities that came with it, and no matter how many times she could remind herself of that it always came as an afterthought. She was in her right as a female to be upset.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Human Again

The sky was a soft shade of blue, the promise of a new day. The sun hadn't reached the horizon yet, but the birds knew winter was near, and they chirped happily. They were the ones that woke Hermione from her slumber.

After yesterdays events that left her emotionally drained she slept heavily. When she opened her eyes she realized she was in the exact spot as she had fallen asleep. Her blankets were undisturbed.

She climbed out from under the covers, and dressed, getting ready for the day. She had planned to help her mother bake thirty pies for the fair in town, one that she wouldn't be attending that year. She had three school assignments to write, and she couldn't waste more time.

Halfway down the stairs she heard voices. One was her dad, the other was... Draco?  
Hermione peeked over the banister but wasn't able to see anything, or rather anyone. She hid behind the wall, and listened.

"I told her to leave," Draco said. "I didn't mean it, I was angry."

"You have best mind that tongue of yours. Keep that in mind for the next girl."

"There won't be other's, sir."

"You're too young to be talking that way."

"Sir, I mean no disrespect, but if I can choose to step away from the expectations that were given to me at birth I can choose who I want to spend my life with, and I choose Hermione."

"That's heavy."

"Like stones."

"Clever," Mr. Granger said dryly without humor.

"I know you think that I'm nothing but a deatheater, but I'm an ex-deatheater, and I promise I'll treat her right, for whatever it's worth. In my world, and in my family a pureblood doesn't associate with a... Muggle. If I was like that I wouldn't be sitting here talking with you, much less have the relationship I do with your daughter."

Hermione heard her father sigh loudly. "I haven't been fair to you, Draco. You've spared my daughter's life, and saved her. I'm eternally grateful for that. It's not easy for me to let her go, knowing that she chose you. I've read so many letters about you, not one of them good. You two happened too quickly."

"I know, and I can't justify that. I can't change what I've done, but I'll spend a lifetime making up for it. Your daughter means everything to me. I'm human when I'm with her. I don't expect you to understand that, sir."

There was silence. Hermione almost moved to make her appearance known, but then her father spoke. "I trust my daughter, I trust her judgment, so I trust you. In time, perhaps I'll grow to even like you."

"Thank you, sir." Draco sounded relieved as if he had been told that he was released from a death sentence.

"Don't thank me. You're not out of the woods yet, son. Hermione's upstairs."

She waited, hearing Draco's soft footsteps come nearer until he was at the bottom staring up at her. His hair was slicked back, and the darkened lines under his eyes that could only be the result in him not sleeping made him resemble an albino raccoon. She nodded indicating that she heard everything. He walked the rest of the way up to her. They didn't touch, but stood at opposite ends.

"I'm not perfect," Draco affirmed.

"Neither am I. I'm not as smart as everyone gives me credit for," she replied poignant. "I kept waiting for you to leave, or tell me to, and when you did, my fears became true."

"What are you talking about, Granger?"

She didn't know why she didn't tell him before, if she had they might have been able to avoid the whole fight. "A part of me expected you to go back to your old ways. Some people don't change, Draco."

Draco chuckled grimly. "I haven't changed, I just grew a backbone. Slytherin's lack that, you know."

She didn't concur with him out loud. They both knew it to be true. Slytherin's could fight on the opposite side of the war, risk their lives, but it meant nothing when they were fighting out of fear of someone else.

Her eyes searched his. "What does this mean?"

Hesitantly he gripped her shoulders. "It means that I'm not scared of what I feel. I love you, and though I'll do many more stupid things, I'll never stop, and I'll never want you to leave. Fuck, Hermione, I didn't give up on us, you did. After all we've been through… If you do this again -"

"I won't. I'm sorry," she whispered, and he kissed her firmly. He held back only a bit.

"Answer my question, Hermione."

She closed her eyes, but at the pressure he put on her shoulders she opened them again staring into the brewing storm. "I do love you differently than them. They can't give me what you can. I can't tell you what would've happened if it was them I lived with, because I'll never know, and I'm glad for that. You're the only one I want to live with."

"And marry?"

"And marry."

"And have a couple of Slytherin brats?"

"No," she said instantly.

His expression darkened, and she giggled.

"They'll be Gryffindor."

"Over my dead body!"

She kissed his lips, and muttered, "shut up, Draco."

He pressed against her crashing her into the wall gently. He tugged at her locks, and while they snogged, he grumbled, "Slytherin." Hermione acted as though she didn't hear.

Minutes later he jerked back. "What're we going to do? Are you coming home?"

Hermione smirked, a smirk worthy of a Malfoy. "Let me stay here for a week. I haven't had a proper vacation with my parents, and here I have a desk. I'd like to get my homework done well before I have to board the train."

"Of course," he agreed, then as an afterthought asked, "can I read those letters you wrote to your parents?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to read them, I can tell you. I told them you were the biggest git in our school. I said that I hated you, that you were a miserable excuse for a wizard, and I wanted you to fall off the earth. Told them how you were always attempting at putting us in detention, the smug look you have on your ugly face -"

"Okay, okay," he said quickly cutting her off. "I can see why your parents were surprised. How'd you ever fall in love with me?"

Her finger toyed with his hairline. "I read your journal."

He laughed tracing her brow with his thumb. "Never repeat this, Hermione. Never. But I'm glad you're a Gryffindor, your curiosity, and guts amaze me."

She grinned proudly, and by his neck she pulled him to her stealing his mouth, his tongue running along the roof of hers. It was an unspoken promise made between them that it would never be over. They wouldn't let it.

They stayed like that until breakfast was called, and Draco joined them. It was their first meal together without reproachful glances from her father, and her mother didn't have to fuss to retain harmony. It was peaceful, for once.


	15. Chapter 15

Epilogue

Grimmauld Place was quiet, almost eerie. Hermione walked through the brightly lit lounge on the second floor. She walked around it, looking at each photograph lining the walls, and mantle of the fireplace.

The day they got married. A small church on the outskirts of town. Her parents, all of the Weasley's, and Potters. George, and James (Harry's toddler son) made a face, Angelina's hand rubbed her growing belly, Mrs. Weasley held a cloth to the corner of a tearful eye, Ron was looking interestingly down at his shoes, and Draco was snogging Hermione deeply, her simple white dress blowing in the breeze.

Draco playfully chasing a six year-old James around in the lounge of the Burrow. Albus (another son) was giggling in the background in Ginny's arms.

George, and Angelina's infant boy Fred tugging on Hermione's hair. Their son was like George's twin brother in many ways, pulling off pranks at every turn, and she was very glad that George was getting a taste of his own medicine.

The day Macbeth, and Julian were born. In St. Mungo's Hermione held one, and Draco the other as Harry snapped a picture of the new family. It was the best day of her life for many reasons. Her babies were finally born after being two weeks late. She had never seen Draco so flustered before, he choked on the soot while flooing. Harry, and Ginny were named godparents. Ron held Macbeth in his arms, and sighed saying, "your father's the biggest prat, little one, but you have your Uncle Ron, so whenever you want to curse him, come to me, just remember, you're half Granger, there's hope." Hermione remembered scolding him half heartedly for that. Ron never came fully around to Draco, but they could be trusted to be in the same room without hexes, or fists flying.

Their children's first birthday. White frosting over their faces, Hermione trying to clean them up while Draco took a hunk of cake dabbing it on Julian's nose who giggled happily.

The day they received their acceptance letters to Hogwarts. Julian had his mother's wild chocolate hair, but his father's gray eyes, pale complexion, and sneer. Macbeth had her father's hair, but her mother's eyes, and the crooked teeth that her grandparents insisted needed braces. Secretly, Hermione corrected them magically; she couldn't have her daughter teased for metal contractions in her mouth. In the picture, with their letters they were jumping up, and down. No one would have guessed they were twins, even by personality. Julian had Hermione's love of books, and Macbeth shared Draco's love of playing the bully.

There was another picture of them with her parents sitting on their lap last Christmas. It made Draco a little sad to see how happy their children were to visit them, when they could never know their other grandparents. Anytime that Hermione suggested it, he firmly told her no, that even if his parents wanted a second chance it would never be given. They gave up the right to know their grandchildren the day they disowned their son. Lucius, and Narcissa were not even aware that Macbeth, and Julian existed, and Draco was right, it was for the best. Who knew what they would do if they knew that their grandchildren were half-bloods.

Hermione clutched the letters from her children, and went over to where Draco laid on the sofa. He watched her seriously until she curled up next to him, his arm snaking around her waist.

"It's lonely," she said.

"I'm here. We have the house to ourselves again, be glad."

Hermione should be glad. They could do anything they wanted again. They had the whole house to themselves. "It turned out for the best. We both got what we wanted. Macbeth's in Slytherin, and Julian's in Gryffindor."

Draco grimaced as though in pain. "My own son... It's a smudge on the family name."

"I think you smudged that long ago, Mr. Malfoy." She honestly didn't like Macbeth in Slytherin. No one did, the moment she owled the family she could have sworn she heard the Weasley's scream in terror. _At least there's hope for Julian_, she jest to herself.

"Our first day in the house without children. What should we do?"

Hermione raised a brow. "I think the twins softened you, Draco."

He laughed, nibbling her neck. "Not quite."

There were no words to describe the odd couple. After all those years they didn't have any secrets to a happy marriage, or how to raise proper children. They took it in stride. They lived, loved, and fought. They weren't perfect by any means, but perhaps that's what it was. When you stop trying to be perfect, and stop second-guessing you'll find the sweetest surprises.

A/N: The story is over. It's considerably shorter than its companion, but I hope you have liked reading it as much as I have writing it. Thank you for all of the reviews; I appreciate the time you took to let me know your thoughts (appreciation goes to future reviewers as well).


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